by Blake Pierce
Rhodes had managed to push herself up into a seated position, leaning back against the wall beside Apartment 28. She was still bleeding, a crimson trickle spilling over her bloodstained left hand, still covering the wound. Her eyes were narrowed and her breathing was labored.
Chloe nudged Mike Dillinger with her gun and gave him a little shove downward. “On your knees, head against the wall.”
He moved slowly—so slowly that when he did hit his knees, Chloe gave him a nudge forward from behind to help him place his head against the wall. She then knelt by Rhodes and surveyed the situation.
“Let me see,” she said.
“No,” Rhodes said. “I’m good. Ambulance should be on the way.”
“Should be, yes. Now let me see it.”
Rhodes moaned and gave in. When she moved her hand, a little gush of blood spilled out over her stomach and pooled in her lap where there was already an alarming amount gathered. Chloe knew that she needed to apply pressure but she was also pretty sure that might not be enough in this situation.
She looked around in a panic as an idea occurred to her. It was a little crazy but she didn’t know what else to do. She got to her feet and closed in on Mike Dillinger. “Lift your arms.”
He did so slowly, his entwined fists pressed against the wall just like his forehead. When his arms were up, Chloe reached down and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. She lifted it up over his head and then slid it up his arms where it got caught on the chain of the cuffs. She then reached into one of the sleeves and grabbed the shirt, pulling and tearing with the other. The T-shirt tore right down the seam of the sleeve and beyond.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dillinger asked.
Chloe ignored him, tearing the shirt until she had torn it all the way down. She now had a length of cloth in her hand, fairly durable and thick cotton. She wadded it up, folding it three times over, and then pressed it firmly to Rhodes’s wound. Rhodes hissed in pain but then relaxed. Chloe looked into her face and saw that she was growing pale and that her eyes were slipping closed.
“Stay with me, Rhodes,” she said. “Can you do that?”
“Mmm-hmmm…”
But as Chloe looked at her, she wasn’t so sure. Even now, less than ten seconds after applying her makeshift little tourniquet, the cloth was beginning to soak through with blood.
“Hold on,” she said urgently. “Come on, Rhodes. Hang in there….”
But Rhodes’s eyes were closing and her breathing was becoming more and more labored. She focused on that noise until another noise broke her concentration. This was a much more welcome noise, the blaring of an approaching ambulance siren.
And while the sound did bring some relief, Chloe wasn’t sure that it was going to reach them in time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Everything happened so quickly that Chloe honestly had a hard time keeping up with it all. The paramedics rushed in, making a fuss about the building’s elevator being broken. When they rolled Rhodes down the hall and toward the stairs, her pulse was weak and flickering. Several police officers came in behind the ambulance, also responding to Rhodes’s call. There was some conversation between Chloe and the cops, most of which she could barely follow. All she knew, five minutes after Rhodes had been cleared from the hallway, was that Mike Dillinger had been removed from the building by the Maryland State PD. Two officers were currently delivering him to the nearest police station for holding and interrogation.
Meanwhile, Rhodes was being hurried to the hospital. As Chloe made her exit from the building, she tried to read the faces of the paramedics to see if they were filled with hope or defeat. She saw a bit of both, and that did not make her feel any better.
She got into her car and placed a call to Agent Garcia before starting the engine. She filled him in on what had happened, ending by letting him know that she was heading to the PD to question Mike Dillinger. Garcia had sounded rather flustered, but let her know that he would be there with her within an hour.
She started the car and pulled out into traffic, not aware that she was shaking until she came to a red light. Up ahead, she could see the lights and flashers of the police cars, taking Dillinger into custody.
How the hell did all of this happen? she asked herself. It was all way too fast. It doesn’t feel real…and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to question that man without losing my cool.
She suddenly found herself wondering how the people she had gone through Evidence Response training with were doing today. She wondered if any of them had been shot at this morning or had their partner’s blood drying on their hands.
The light turned green and she continued on, following the cop cars ahead to what she felt was going to be her first true test as a ViCAP agent.
***
She looked through the double-sided glass at Mike Dillinger. He was sitting in a steel folding chair behind a long metal table. A policeman sat on the other side, filling out paperwork and asking Dillinger a series of questions. He’d been in there for a little over half an hour. Chloe was rather relieved that the whole process was taking so long. She had no problem going in to question Dillinger, but she’d feel much better if someone like Assistant Director Garcia or Director Johnson were here.
Hell, she’d even feel a little better if Rhodes was here. But she was currently fighting for her life, probably in an operating room by now. As she waited for her time to head into the interrogation room, she glanced down at her hands. She’d washed them three times already but she could still see faint traces of Rhodes’s blood.
As she stood there, arms folded and thoughts all over the place, the door opened. She was surprised to see not Garcia, but Director Johnson enter the room. He closed the door behind him and took a moment to study Chloe’s composure.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Good.”
“I heard the report from the police. Can you give me your rundown?”
She nodded and spent the next three minutes giving Johnson her version of events. She did her best to downplay the fact that she was well aware that if Dillinger’s aim had been a bit better, she could very well be dead right now.
“I called the hospital about two minutes before I stepped in here,” Johnson said. “Rhodes is in surgery right now and it’s too early to tell if she’s going to make it or not. The nurse I spoke with did let me know that your quick thinking and poise under pressure might have saved her life. Without you there, she would have died in the ambulance.”
Chloe wasn’t sure what to say to that. She just waited patiently as Johnson looked through the glass.
“Police searched Dillinger’s place. We have some agents there, too. The guy is a piece of work, that’s for sure. We might have found why he’d be so brazen as to shoot at two FBI agents. There are encrypted files on his computer and some USB drives—the sort of encryptions we’ve seen hundreds of times before. Our experts are pretty sure it’s all dark web stuff. Rape movies, snuff films, things of that nature. We aren’t sure yet, but it’s likely headed that way.” Johnson paused here and stared at Chloe, almost like a concerned parent. “You know, you don’t have to interrogate him. You’ve done more than enough already.”
“No, I think I’ll be okay.”
“Would you like me to come in with you?”
Chloe thought about it and shrugged. The next comment out of her mouth felt as if it had slipped out…not the sort of thing she should say to someone so high above her.
“With all due respect, sir, do you coddle all new agents like this?”
“No. Just the ones I convince to switch departments only to have them shot at and save the life of another agent. Just so happens, you’re the first.”
“Then yes, I’d like you in there with me.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Come on.”
Johnson opened the door and led them a few yards down the hallway. He knocked on the door to the interrogation room and it was answered by the officer ten seconds later. Johnson showed the office
r his badge and more or less bullied his way into the room.
“You done here?” Johnson asked.
“Nearly.”
“Give us the room for ten minutes. After that, he’s all yours again.”
It was clear the officer did not appreciate being shoved around like this, but he conceded. He took one glance back to Dillinger—still shirtless from Chloe’s quick-thinking first aid measures—and left the room, closing the door behind him. Johnson folded his arms and stood against the far wall, eyeing Dillinger. It did two things: intimidate the hell out of Dillinger, and let Chloe know that that floor was now hers.
She stepped towards the table, doing her best to appear that she had done this hundreds of time in the past.
“I’m Agent Chloe Fine,” she said. “You might recognize me from when you took a shot at me—at the same time you seriously injured my partner. Mr. Dillinger, I’m going to skip the niceties here and ask why you’d so blindly fire at someone that happened to be knocking at your door.”
“Two women that looked like they didn’t belong there were in my hallway, fucking with my door,” Dillinger said in a shaky voice. “I didn’t believe you when you said you were federal agents.” Dillinger looked slightly frightened but there was also a sort of boredom to his posture in the chair and the way he spoke. He knew he was in trouble and apparently didn’t see the point in either begging to being defiant.
“Apparently not. But still…do you make a habit of shooting at people that come knocking on your door?”
“I’m not stupid,” Dillinger said. “I saw you going for your side—figured you had a gun. I thought you might have been sent by someone that might have it in for me.”
“And who would have it in for you?” Chloe asked.
“A few people.”
“Understandably so,” Chloe said. “Mr. Dillinger, there are FBI agents and State policemen currently working to decrypt certain files they found on your laptop and several USBs. It might take a little time, but they will get through. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what we’re going to find?”
Dillinger folded his hands and set them on the table, perhaps trying to seem aloof. But the nervousness on his face betrayed it.
“Fine then,” Chloe said. “Why don’t you tell me how you know Kim Wielding?”
The mention of the name seemed to rattle him for the slightest of moments. But he then chuckled and said, “What about that uppity bitch?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Chloe asked. “She is, after all, dead. And I’m starting to think you killed her.”
Dillinger’s reaction confused her. He stared at her as if she had pulled a gun out and shot him. But it passed after a quick moment when he then shook his head and looked down to his still-folded hands.
“I’m not saying anything else until I speak to a lawyer.”
“At least tell me how she knew you.”
He grinned and cocked his head at her. “Why? The two of us together don’t make sense to you? She too good for me? I get it. You wouldn’t be the first to think such a thing.”
“How long did you know her?”
Dillinger glared up at her as if she was stupid, like an adult flummoxed by a child. “No more conversation until I speak to a lawyer.”
Chloe turned back to look at Johnson. He nodded and then reached for the door. When he opened it, Chloe wasted no time in heading out, not even lured back into the room when she heard Dillinger chuckling at her. Chloe and Johnson went directly back to the viewing room, Johnson giving the officer who had previously been with Dillinger a little nod, as if to say: Carry on.
“What are your initial thoughts?” Johnson asked when they were back behind a closed door.
Chloe took a moment before answering. She felt as if she was being tested, that Johnson was looking for some very specific answer. “He’s guilty of something, but I don’t see enough to instantly pin Kim Wielding’s murder on him.”
“I’ll work with the State boys to make sure they get what they need from the bureau. Fine…you’ve done remarkable work today and I’ve been in your shoes before. Being shot at, watching a partner’s life hang in the balance. It’s hard. So I want you to take the rest of the day. Don’t go back to the office. Go home. If you decide you need someone to speak with, I’ll make sure you get directly through to a bureau psychologist.”
His concern for her was unexpected and touching. And since she knew better than to argue with him, she only said: “Thank you, sir.”
“I would still like a report on my desk within two days about what happened.”
“No problem,” Chloe said, opening the door and heading out.
As she walked down the hallway and toward the front doors, she felt a wave of emotion crashing over her. It was one she had felt twice that morning, trying to claim her. She’d managed to fight it off both times but now her defenses were down. By the time she made it to her car, she was weeping so hard she had to take a moment to crank her car. And when she did finally turn the key in the ignition, the sight of Rhodes’s faint bloodstains on her hands set it off all over again.
And as was usually the case when she grew emotional, she thought of her father. Only this time when she thought of him, it caused the crying to stop.
She had the rest of the day at her disposal. And she knew where he was.
She considered her options for a moment and then pulled out of the parking lot with a terrifying plan hatching in her head.
CHAPTER NINE
When she came to her apartment, she already knew that she was not going to stop. When that wave of emotion had crashed against her heart and finally broke her in the police station parking lot, it had brought something with it. Just like an ocean wave bringing shells and kelp and other detritus from the ocean floor to the shore, her wave had brought something else as well.
It had brought an unsettled feeling about her father. And it was that feeling that had her coasting by her apartment building and toward the ramp for the interstate. It was nearly a two-and-a-half-hour drive to the Somerset Correctional Facility in Pennsylvania, the prison that her father had been held in for nearly twenty years now. But she figured that would give her plenty of time to clear her head and to think long and hard about what she might finally say to her father, Aiden Fine.
Roughly halfway along her trip, her cell phone rang. While she had not yet saved the contact, she recognized Director Garcia’s number. She answered it with her heart in her throat, fearing that this would be news about Rhodes’s condition and that it would not be good.
“This is Agent Fine.”
“This is Assistant Director Garcia. I thought you’d want an update on Rhodes. The surgery is not over, but they have her stabilized. Barring some unseen problems during the remainder of the procedure, she’s going to pull through. And the doctors are saying you saved her life by applying that compress. She would have bled out if not for you.”
“That’s great news,” Chloe said. “Thanks.”
“Director Johnson tells me you’re taking the remainder of the day for yourself. If I might be so bold, let me suggest just relaxing at home. Take some time to process all of this and let us know how we can help.”
She smiled nervously, looking ahead to the open interstate in front of her. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
***
She’d been expecting to have to show her ID and badge to see her father but she was surprised that she simply had to undergo a check-in process—not as a federal agent, but as Aiden Fine’s daughter. She was then ushered into a room that looked very much like every visitation scene she’d ever watched on a television drama. There was a long row of booths, all joined together to look almost like a single long, yet partitioned desk. The booths were two-sided, the front and back separated by bulletproof glass. One side was for visitors; the other side fed into the prison, allowing prisoners to come for face-to-face visits.
There were no other visitors when Chloe took her seat at the
center booth. Her TV-based version of these booths was broken apart when she saw that the booths did not have traditional phone-based communication sets bolted to the walls. Instead, each side had a small microphone that was hooked to a send and receive button—basically a high-tech CB radio.
She sat there in the quiet with a single guard standing several feet away, as she waited for someone to usher her father in. Idly, she wondered if he’d even recognize her. It had, after all, been seventeen years since he’d last seen her.
It took five minutes for a door to buzz on the other side of the glass. A guard walked alongside her father. Aiden Fine looked rail thin and wore a beard that was in need of a shave. His eyes looked rather wild as he was ushered to the seat in front of Chloe. With the glass between them, they stared at one another before her father finally said something.
“Chloe.” Her name came out of his mouth in a dry little sob.
“Hey,” was all she could find to say. After some courage, she also managed: “I’m surprised you recognize me.”
“You don’t look all that different.”
“You do,” she said. “But I had this picture of you in my head that I wasn’t even sure was accurate or not.”
He nodded, as if he understood perfectly. “It’s nice to see you,” he said, clearly fighting back a wave of tears. “What made you decide to visit?”
She knew she could go one of two ways. She could play the part of the grown woman who had lived a childhood without a mother or a father, and with a haunted memory of the day her father had been arrested. Or she could be true to herself. She could behave the way she felt, use the words that came naturally to her rather than filtering them.
And that’s what she chose to do.
She lifted her hands and showed them to him. “I’m an FBI agent now. Part of the ViCAP program. The blood you see on my hands is my partner’s. It’s just stain…it’ll come off if I scrub really hard, I guess…”