Phantom in the Night

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Terri curled her lip at the sarcastic terror who had given one hundred and ten percent to making every day of Terri's life at the DEA miserable. Josie had even campaigned for her position from the first day Terri spent in the hospital after the attack.

  And got her job, damn them all.

  Silversteen could put on that phoney street slang, but she was from old money in New Jersey. Why couldn't she have stayed in the lap of luxury and not been a sandspur in Terri's hide?

  "Okay, real slow this time, Mitchell—"

  Terri glared at her. "This isn't the morgue. What? You get lost or something?" She mimicked Josie's accent. "If you got stiffed on a body, that's your problem, not mine. No pun intended." Terri tapped her fingers on the desktop, ready to end the unscheduled meeting.

  "Very funny, Mitchell. That Drake killing is our"—Josie tapped a maroon fingernail against her chest—"jurisdiction. Did one of these NOPD boys pull a fast one?"

  "Why would they?" Terri slapped her hand down on a stack of reports and leaned forward. "Look, I'm busy and not interested in your missing body. Why don't you call Dolly Parton, Jane Fonda, and Lily Tomlin to put together a search party for the hospital bathrooms and stop wasting my time?"

  Josie studied her perfect manicure. "You re the last one to see the body. In fact, Brady said you were giving the corpse hot looks. Never been into necrophilia myself, but I guess it's hard for a gimp to get laid."

  Terri's face flamed with embarrassment. Beautiful, wealthy, and not half bad at her job, Josie went right for the buttons that destroyed feminine confidence in other women and never missed an opportunity to exploit a weak spot. Terri clutched the edge of her desk to keep her fingers busy so she wouldn't use anything around her as a weapon.

  "Oh, sorry," Josie cooed in a phony tone and splayed her hand above her immense bust. How did a woman stay that skinny with boobs the size of cantaloupes? "My bad for mentioning your leg. So hows the rehab going? I'm surprised you'd come back around an investigation after, well, you know… the screwup."

  "I didn't screw up."

  "Tell that to Conroy's widow."

  Now that burned on a level so deep it was all Terri could do not to reach out and start ripping out Josie's brunette mane. Her knuckles turned white from the pressure of keeping them in place. "If that's all you came to talk about, you know where the exit is. Or should I reacquaint you with the street, butt first?"

  Josie lifted her delicate brows and cocked her head slightly in a look that let Terri know she didn't take her as any kind of serious threat. Big mistake there. Terri could have had her skinny ass down in less time than it'd take to dump a cup of coffee. "No, that's not all. Talking to me right now would be in your best interest."

  "Why?"

  "In case you've forgotten—I know, a problem for blondes—you're still under investigation. Refusing to work with the DEA could be considered a hostile attitude."

  Terri's street fighter genes simmered, wanting to burst out of her skin and show this viper exactly how hostile she really was. "I haven't forgotten and I haven't been hostile." Yet. "So get back to your point in this visit."

  "That is my point," Josie purred. "I'm now heading the investigation on you and Conroy."

  "What do you mean, Conroy? He's dead, for crying out loud."

  "This investigation has moved in another direction that I'm not at liberty to discuss. We know someone was sharing DEA information with Marseaux. Right now, all evidence points at one of you two. So if it's Conroy, poor Sally won't get any benefits." Josie's lips pooched in a fake expression of concern. "However, if it's you…" She smiled, genuinely excited. "You'll have all the benefits allowed any other federal prisoner. Now, you want to play nice or push me to hunt answers elsewhere?"

  Stunned at the audacity of that threat, Terri couldn't believe the length Josie would go to bury her. Bad enough that she and Conroy were both suspected of working with Marseaux, but to deny his widow benefits would be the final insult.

  Sally had serious back and kidney problems. The one plus for Conroy's widow was that Josie would use the full force of the law to nail Terri first.

  Much as she'd like to blow off this pain in her butt, Terri had to play smart to win. That meant keeping Josie close while she searched for a way to clear her and Conroy's names.

  "Why are you cluing me in on the investigation?" Terri asked.

  Josie's eyebrows shifted in amused surprised. "Good question. You do have a brain, after all. I know you think I'm out to get you, but everything is not always about you. I'm going to find the leak in the agency and the missing Drake body. If you want a fair shake on this investigation, then don't work against me."

  "I'm not so naïve as to think your wanting to work together has anything to do with getting a fair shake and everything to do with how many rungs you can hike up the DEA ladder in that street walker skirt. What do you want to know?" She'd asked that with the same enthusiasm of answering phone solicitations.

  Josie came as close to frowning as Terri had ever seen but managed to stop before she creased her perfect brow. "You know anything about a guy called FinMan?"

  Yes, but Terri didn't want to share much more with Josie since FinMan was one of Marseaux's street weasels. "I've heard his name mentioned around here."

  "He's a contact I've been grooming. Sells to everyone, but mostly drug runners. Called me this morning pretty shook-up, which is saying a lot for a man in his profession. Said he had a visitor around two a.m. who strung him up by his ankles to make him talk."

  "Doesn't sound so bad to me." Terri smiled to herself over this creep getting a taste of his own treatment. She'd heard more than she cared to recall about FinMan's kinky side and how bad he'd hurt several hookers. He deserved to be strung up naked, and worse.

  "It might if you were male, hanging upside down naked and got nervous, then whizzed all over yourself. Gravity is not your friend at that point."

  "Eww. Save those tidbits for when you're in the men's room… updating your contact information."

  Josie leaned back and offered her a droll gaze. "You know, Mitchell, you weren't this clever when you were at the agency."

  "No?" Terri mirrored her movements, placing her own hands on each arm of the rickety chair. "I thought it was pretty hilarious every time I outshot you on the pistol range and closed more cases than anyone else in my department. Now that I don't have to deal with backstabbing coworkers, my sense of humor has only gotten better." Probably not smart to poke at a cobra, but Josie would suspect Terri if she turned all girlfriend nice.

  "You nailed a lot of paper targets, but missed the mark big time on your last mission." Josie crossed her legs and leaned forward, propping her arms across her knee. Her voice dropped a notch. "It's one thing to kill a practice target and another to eliminate a threat. I wouldn't have let someone take my partner down from behind."

  Muscles squeezed tight around Terri's heart every time she was reminded of Conroy's death and that night. She wished she could remember all the details, but she'd been knocked out from behind and came to with a knife-wielding madman hunched over her. She had to live with her mistakes and those nightmares, but she didn't have to put up with Josie's garbage anymore.

  "Whatever. I've told you what I know. If you've got nothing else to discuss, Silversteen, I'm done."

  "Much as I'd like to spend my investigative time on someone better qualified than you, I can put a case ahead of any personal differences. Even if it means wading through all your crap to find the missing body and close this investigation. But if you can't put the job first or want me to come to my own conclusions, just say so."

  Terri drummed the tip of her pen on a stack of reports.

  Just find out what she wanted and move on. "Okay, I've heard FinMan mentioned around here and that he has a couple full-time bodyguards. How does he figure into the missing body?"

  "More than a couple bodyguards, and this phantom guy took them all out, except one that was out of town without being seen or touc
hed, and got to FinMan."

  Terri paused her hand. "What do you mean, 'phantom guy'?"

  "That's what I'm trying to tell you, blondie. He said the dead guy at the morgue had come after him. Strung him up and threatened to cut off just enough of his nuts to make him bleed very slowly and never get hard again."

  The dead guy was alive? No, not even possible. "I can see how that probably freaked out FinMan, though I doubt any of the local prostitutes would have taken up a collection for an implant. Who'd he think the guy was?"

  Josie huffed. "You really are slow. One more time, FinMan said it was the dead guy."

  Terri pulled her arm back. "That's impossible. What did Brady say?"

  "Screw Brady. He's working for a different department and doesn't share, so why should I? My boss wants this body found pronto. I plan to kill two birds with one shot since most of the places I'm going for background on you and Conroy might know something about the body. So if you hear a word on that corpse, you need to call me first. Got that? In fact, a word to the wise, don't go getting chummy with Brady again."

  Terri had no interest in being chummy with anyone, particularly Brady, but where did this twit get off telling her who she could talk to or not?

  "Are you threatening me?" Terri slowly rose from her chair. She was a vision of calm even though she wanted to flatten this witch into a furry brown doormat.

  "No, don't confuse that statement with something as simple as a threat." Josie stood and glared down her narrow nose at Terri. "You share anything I've told you with Brady and I promise you I'll come looking for you. You're fair game now that you aren't a Fed anymore, and you're at the top of my investigation list. Use your head for once. Don't get in my way."

  "Don't worry, just as long as you stay out of my way," Terri snarled right back.

  "Oooohhh, I'm worried. You gonna kick my butt with your one good leg?"

  No, but I might gouge out your eyes and play marbles with them. "Good luck finding Drake's body At least he won't have a problem getting hard for you." Terri tried to catch those last words before they escaped, but as usual her temper had raced ahead of her brain.

  Conroy had been one of the few male agents who failed to hit on Josie during her first year. That he was happily married meant nothing to her. Josie had caught him in a black mood, drinking alone at a local watering hole while his wife was out of town. She pulled out all the stops to get him in the sack. He'd said no. When she called him a limp dick, he smiled and told her he only had a problem getting it up around a slut.

  Josie lifted her purse, her face a blank mask of calm.

  "Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Mitchell Tic-toc." She strolled from the offices with the regal bearing of a queen.

  Terri made a childish face at Josie's back.

  The room quieted near her. She glanced around and caught a couple gazes straying her way, so she glared them into submission, then plopped back down in the chain.

  Dammit! Whoever had decided to put all of them in a common room should be cursed with a plague on their privates.

  The phone rang again.

  She snatched it up. "What?"

  "Damn, Terri, don't bite my head off."

  She relaxed at the smooth Latino accent. His was the only voice that could have soothed her fury. "Sorry, Carlos. What have you got?"

  "Plenty of fine wine and silk sheets with a high thread count."

  Terri smiled. Carlos Delgado had been the first agent she'd met at BAD when Joe's partner, Tee, showed Terri around. Carlos had a half-smile that meant anything from he couldn't take you seriously to he'd like to strip you naked. As a woman, she'd immediately read the latter into his expression, which had drawn a sigh from her but nothing more. She knew better than to get involved with a teammate, even if he did put a Latin god to shame.

  "You do brighten my day, Carlos."

  "Anything to be of service to you. And I mean that in every sense of the word."

  Terri chuckled, forgetting her anger for the moment. "What's up?"

  "It's obviously going to take a lot more work to get dinner with you, but I'm a patient man. Back to business. The container is in the yard. Joe tied up Philborn with paperwork for two hours—starting now—before the crime lab can dust for prints or remove any evidence. We need someone inside to do a survey and take photos of everything, not just the drugs."

  "I'll head over there now."

  "Wait for me to pick you up. I'd be there already if not for the damn traffic crossing Lake Ponchatrain."

  "I don't need anyone to go with me. If I go now that's at least an extra half hour."

  "Joe and Tee agreed to let you work solo… to a degree. Everyone has backup at some time, Terri."

  "Even you?"

  "I do if I think I need it."

  "Then give me the same latitude." Terri lowered her voice and turned away from big ears. "Admit it, Carlos. You wouldn't stop another agent from going to the container alone with this short window of time. Don't treat me like I'm not capable of doing my job."

  Carlos grumbled something in Spanish under his breath that she had a feeling translated into how difficult women annoyed him. "Don't make me regret it."

  "I won't." Nice to win one small battle. "Give me the address and I'm out of here." Terri scribbled the address on a small notepad.

  "One more thing. We're getting some strange intel connected to Marseaux. Keep your ear tuned for anything odd to do with the Drake body."

  How could one corpse be so popular?

  "What do you mean?" She kept her voice down and turned around, eyes scanning the room for anyone who might be listening to her conversation.

  "Hooknose Rodaine landed in the hospital with a concussion and cracked ribs ."

  That didn't surprise her. "He must have snitched on the wrong person. Why the concern?"

  "I couldn't care less if he floated up the Mississippi ass first since he's not one of my contacts. He's tight with the Marseaux bunch, but that's not the weird part. Johnny Boy on the south side ended up in the hospital, too, with a broken arm and crushed kneecap. His story matches Rodaine and those two hate each other."

  "What story?"

  "They both claim a ghost tried to kill them."

  Terri went still. "What kind of ghost?"

  "They say it's Drake's spirit come back from the grave. And get this—they claim the ghost rides around in some suped-up ride. No one has seen the car, but they say you can tell he's near by the sound of his mufflers. See what you can dig up on this Drake character. I'm thinking Drake was more than a mule."

  Tiny bumps pebbled her skin. She rubbed them, feeling a chill wash over her. What was going on? "That makes three."

  "Three? Are you serious? Who else was attacked?"

  "FinMan, everybody's favorite information peddler."

  "I know him. Works for the highest dollar of the day and has a bunch of slabs of beef he calls bodyguards."

  She nodded. "That's him. I heard from a DEA agent FinMan claims he was strung upside down by his ankles, naked, and threatened with no future as a porn star if he didn't talk."

  "Really?" Carlos chuckled.

  "He claims it was the dead guy, too. What do you think is going on?"

  "Probably somebody who either is a good makeup artist or has one and wants to screw with these guys."

  "Maybe, but it doesn't make sense." What was the thread that tied all these people together?

  "Yeah. What does this guy want? No one will tell what they said to Drake or whoever it was who jacked them up. They all swear they gave up nothing. Better to suffer in silence than have Marseaux think they caved and squealed anything about him."

  No kidding. Marseaux would do a lot more than just threaten. "FinMan was strung up prior to the drug bust so you have to wonder if he panicked, spilled the beans, and is behind the leak on that."

  Terri glanced at her watch. Was Carlos keeping her on the phone until he arrived?

  Probably so.

  "Thanks for the call,
Carlos. It did a world of good for my feminine ego. I gotta go."

  "You know, I could stroke so much more than just your ego."

  "I'll keep that in mind." Terri laughed, ignoring the offer.

  She hung up and hurried down to the garage and moved the large canvas tote bag with all her investigation paraphernalia to the front seat before driving over to the lot. The sun disappeared too soon on winter days, leaving the world dark and gloomy beneath a canopy of clouds.

  New Orleans always looked spooky this time of year. Yet she couldn't imagine living anywhere else. She really loved this city, which was more than just a home. This place was part of her.

  Once Terri reached the lot, she showed her ID and was heartened to learn she'd been given access. Joe was brutally efficient.

  She signed in, accepted a key for the lock, and drove past a set of storage buildings that had been donated to the city with this chunk of land. Slick cars, fast boats, and other illegally purchased confiscations covered two-thirds of the landscape.

  The white container sat perched on a small rise, the metal box looking as out of place as a lost white elephant amidst all the sleek vehicles from drug hauls.

  Terri parked in the gravel area. She grabbed her tote bag and a honkin' big battery-operated lamp that would light a ten-foot radius. When gravel changed to soft dirt, she chose her steps carefully to keep from aggravating her thigh.

  Who decided the container had to be uphill? She shivered against the wintry breeze sliding across the ground and swirling in open spaces. Should have brought her wool overjacket, but she'd been in too big of hurry to get here. Besides, it shouldn't take long to determine if there was anything she could learn from the drug shipment that would have a bearing on her covert investigation for BAD.

  When she reached the container the lock hung slightly open on the door. Hadn't the security detail delivering this box made sure the lock was set? Just because it was inside a secured lot didn't mean they could leave the container so easily accessible.

  The left door creaked when she whipped it open and shoved her head inside. A light shining in the rear area flashed up to blind her.