by Dani Pettrey
She nodded and did as he’d asked.
When he returned to the room, Finley insisted on helping clean up the scrapes on the soles of his feet.
“Do you think it was him?” she asked.
He nodded. “It’s just now registering, but the shadow I saw was too short to be the intruder who left the message in our other hotel room earlier.” He was about Thornton’s height.
“Might there be two of them?”
Could there be two killers, working together? It went against everything in the profiler’s assessment . . . and against Griffin’s gut.
He swallowed, the dream he’d endured kicking back the flood of emotions he’d felt at the sight of poor Jenna’s face upon finding her.
“Hey.” Finley rested her hand on his arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just thinking.” He raked a hand through his hair. What had he been thinking right as he drifted off to sleep, before the nightmare took over? He’d been envisioning a barn, wondering why . . . “Why did Burke keep the key words hidden in code in a book?” he said.
She frowned. “What?”
“Think about it. The only people who know we are here are cops, federal agents, the ME’s office, and the victims’ families. And I keep wondering why Burke hid the key words.”
“It’s a good question.” She finished cleaning out the last scrape, and with a thank-you kiss, he planted his feet on the floor, ignoring the sting.
“Do you think he suspected the killer might be someone he knew?” she asked.
“It could have been.”
“Someone in the Bureau? Someone he worked with?”
“Yes. Or possibly someone he’d talked to during his investigation?” Maybe Burke had an idea who the killer was or feared the killer was paying attention to his investigation. Maybe, until he figured out who the killer was for certain, Burke had decided to play it very close to the vest.
A chill raced up Griffin’s spine at the thought. Had they already talked face-to-face with Jenna’s killer—or were they about to?
20
Hank’s warehouse was eerily quiet, still.
Luke swallowed. Ungood. “Wait here,” he said as he opened his car door.
Kate pulled out her gun. “What’s wrong?”
He surveyed the dozen or so vehicles in the parking lot. “I’m not sure.” But something was definitely off.
A crow cawed as he climbed from the vehicle, his gun drawn. He never should have brought Kate in the first place, but once Tanya learned he was coming in to work for Hank, she’d jumped at the chance to scoot out of the office for a mani-pedi with her new buddy, Jasmine.
Kate climbed out, mirroring his movements.
He frowned at her. Seriously?
She ignored his silent protest to stay put and continued moving for the half-open warehouse door.
Knowing arguing was futile and would only alert whoever was inside to their presence, he tilted his head for her to come closer to him as he prepared to enter the building.
Taking a steadying breath, he fully opened the door with his foot and stepped inside the entryway. His back to the wall, his gun at the ready, he surveyed the narrow hall before him.
Lights were on and music played faintly, but otherwise, no talking, no machines running, no footsteps. Just absolute silence.
Luke indicated for Kate to follow at his six, and they moved unsurprisingly in sync down the hall, pausing at the corridor’s end before entering the warehouse proper.
He took two steps forward and turned to block Kate.
Her eyes widened at the half dozen or so bodies strewn across the bloodstained concrete floor.
Yanking her to his side, he continued moving deeper into the warehouse, his eyes scanning the perimeter. More bodies littered the ground around them.
“Sweet Home Alabama” was playing in the office at the end of the hall. Luke entered to find Hank dead in his desk chair, a shot to the head and chest.
Kate stopped behind him and muffled a gasp. He longed to do nothing more than pull her into his arms and comfort her, but someone was still present. He could feel it, could smell the woman’s perfume. Thankfully not Lauren’s Chanel No. 5. This one smelled cheap. Whoever it was had attempted to smother her own gasp as they’d entered the office.
He held a finger to his lips and pointed to the wall across from them.
Kate’s brows knit together, but she held still as he moved to investigate.
He studied a faded mark on the floor, tapped the wall, which echoed back hollow, and then flipped the light switch to the right just above the file cabinet’s edge. Nearly concealed, but not quite. A hidden door popped open to reveal a quivering Tanya, balled up on the floor, her hands up to protect her face.
Luke slid his gun into the back waistband of his pants. “It’s okay, Tanya. You’re safe.”
She cautiously lowered her hands. “Garrett?” Mascara streaked her tearstained cheeks. She looked past him at Kate. “Jasmine?”
Luke reached in, helping Tanya to her feet.
“Who did this?” Kate asked.
Tanya shook her head. “I don’t know. Hank and I were in here. Next thing you know we hear gunfire, and Hank shoved me in the secret compartment and told me to be quiet. I heard his chair wheels move, him probably reaching for the .45 he kept under his desk. Within seconds, the office door kicked in, and I heard a . . . thwack.” Tanya glanced toward Hank and sobbed.
Luke looked at Kate. Silencer. Professional hit.
“Ebeid?” she mouthed so only Luke could see her.
He nodded. “My best guess.”
Tanya looked back and forth between the two of them, confused. “What happened?”
“It’s gonna be all right,” he said, moving for his phone.
She looked at him as if he were crazy. “All right? Are you insane? Hank’s dead.”
Kate moved to Tanya’s side. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
“If it was Stallings or, worse yet, his mystery man, I need to get out of here—fast.” She trembled beside Kate.
Luke called Declan and explained the situation, along with his extraction wishes for Tanya.
Tanya stumbled back, her gaze wary. “Who are you people?”
“I’m Kate and this is—”
Luke shook his head. She could share her real identity if she chose, but he had to keep Garrett Beck in play.
“Names aren’t important,” Kate said, “What’s important, what matters most, is getting you out of here.”
Luke ended his call with Declan and waited a few minutes before alerting Mack, trying to buy Declan time to arrive before the Agency’s sweeper team came in and whisked Tanya away. Her safety depended on Declan reaching them first, and having her placed in witness protection. But for Declan to provide that, Tanya had to give them something of value.
“I don’t understand,” Tanya said, her voice quavering.
“I’m a private investigator working with a task force to bring down the person who we believe is your mystery man,” Kate explained.
“You lied to us?” Tanya’s eyes narrowed. “This is because of you? Is Hank dead because of you?” She angrily waved her finger at her husband slumped back in his chair. “They thought we told you something!”
They had talked—a lot—and Ebeid, no doubt, had gotten word of it. If only they could tie him directly to these hits, but Ebeid was far too careful for that.
Luke strode to Tanya. “I need you to tell me everything you know.”
She retreated so quickly, she bumped into the wall and nearly tumbled to the ground. “I’m not saying a word. They’ll kill me. Besides, I don’t know nothing. Hank made sure I was protected in case anything went wrong.”
She did know. She’d shared enough last night to get them all killed, and it had nearly worked. “They’re going to kill you if you don’t talk.”
“What? Do you think I’m a fool?”
“To put you in witness protection, you need to give
the FBI agent who’s on the way here right now some information of value, or he’ll be forced to let you go—and out there, you’re dead.”
“I’ll go to my sister’s place in upstate New York.”
“You think the man who did this”—Luke pointed at Hank—“can’t easily find you at your sister’s? It’s one of the first places they’ll look, and then you’ll be endangering her too.”
Tanya nibbled her chipped, red-polished nails. “I don’t know anything.” Tears streamed down her face, her makeup running with them.
“Just think,” Luke said, using a calming tone. “I’m sure there’s something. . . . Hank said someone was using a handful of his trucks. You think he’s connected to Stallings. Any idea who he is?”
“No, but he was foreign. Moved here a few years back. Started working with Stallings. I saw a couple of his guys once, and most were Middle Eastern or Asian.”
“You guys also mentioned he was using a warehouse. Any idea where?”
“No. Hank didn’t say.”
“Who picked up the trucks?”
“I don’t know. It happened late at night. Hank was told to be here—alone, with trucks ready.”
“When was this?”
“Late last week.”
Luke knelt in front of Tanya, trying to direct her focus. “And Hank never mentioned who picked them up?”
“No. He said he knew they were for Stallings’ mystery man, but it’s not like the man would actually pick up the trucks himself.”
Right. He’d send his men. Luke straightened and surveyed the office. “Any video monitoring here?”
“No one is supposed to know, but due to the nature of Hank’s business . . . yeah, there are a few hidden ones.”
Thank you, Lord. Finally, a break.
“Where’s the footage?”
Tanya moved to Hank’s computer, typed in a series of passwords, and opened the main page full of dates. He squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you,” he said as Declan entered.
“You guys okay?” Declan asked.
Kate nodded. “This is Tanya.”
“She’s bringing up footage showing who picked up Hank’s trucks last week,” Luke said.
Declan moved to stand behind Tanya’s chair, Luke and Kate on either side of him, as agents—both FBI and CIA—flooded the warehouse. Soon the jurisdictional jabbing would begin, though the CIA had no sound footing. They were on U.S. soil, and the FBI, thanks to Declan, had arrived first.
“There,” Luke said, pointing to the screen, his focus on finding out exactly who picked up the trucks. Hopefully, once they had a positive ID, they could link them back to Ebeid.
Tanya paused the footage.
“Go back two minutes,” Luke asked. “There.”
She paused it.
“Who is that?” Declan asked, squinting at the screen over Luke’s shoulder.
“Can you zoom in on the man’s face?” Luke asked.
“That’s Cyrus,” Declan said. “He was Ebeid’s new right-hand man.”
“Great. Now we just bring Cyrus in, get him to confess his tie to Ebeid, and—”
“Not going to happen,” Declan said, cutting him off.
Luke frowned. “Why?”
“Cyrus’s body was just pulled from the dumpster behind Kate’s office.”
Kate’s jaw tensed. “What?”
“Trash crew called it in. Tim Barrows at the Bureau just identified the body.”
“Why kill Cyrus?” Kate asked.
“Because he failed to kill us at CCI, and he was probably the bomber at the boat,” Luke guessed. “Time of death?”
“Parker’s on site now that Avery’s recovering, and he said he’d guess over twenty-four hours.”
“So if Cyrus was already dead, then who did this?” Luke asked.
21
Declan scrolled through the footage to the time Tanya said the shooting began. The men who entered the warehouse with semi-automatics were dressed head to toe in black.
“Well, that doesn’t help us any,” Declan said.
“What about the vehicle they arrived in?” Luke asked.
“Good thinking,” Declan said.
Tanya switched cameras to the parking lot and bingo. “I recognize this. It’s one of the trucks we lent out to the guy you called Cyrus,” she said.
“I’ll have traffic cameras start searching for the truck,” Declan said.
“That’s it.” Tanya snapped.
Luke arched a brow. “What’s it?”
“The trucks.” Tanya switched to a different screen on the computer and again entered a series of passwords. “The video cameras weren’t the only hidden thing Hank had going.” She typed in several more number combinations. “Only Hank and I knew, but he installed GPS trackers on all his trucks.”
“Seriously?” Luke said.
She nodded.
Thank you, Lord.
“Hank worked with some—well, let’s just call it like it is—monsters,” she said, glancing at Hank’s body being wheeled out the door by the ME. She swallowed hard, tears streaking down her cheeks. “It was his way of protecting his assets,” she said, choking on a sob.
Kate handed her a tissue.
“Thanks.” She sniffed.
“And the people taking the trucks didn’t know?” Luke asked. It was a critical factor.
“No.” Tanya shook her head as she blew her nose.
“Are you positive?” Declan asked.
She nodded. “Positive. A buddy of Hank’s who is a total whiz kid when it comes to techie gear decked out all the trucks for him. Said it’d be nearly impossible to find them.”
Nearly wasn’t good enough, but there was hope, a chance.
Tanya found the screen she’d been searching for and grabbed a pad of paper. She started jotting down the truck numbers and their current locations. When she was done, she handed the page with trembling fingers to Luke, who handed it to Declan. It was her ticket into witness protection.
“There are four trucks here.” Declan frowned. “I thought you said five went out?”
“Five did . . .” Tanya typed in some numbers, then frowned. “One isn’t registering.”
“Which one?” Luke asked, his gut sinking.
Tanya exhaled. “The one they drove here this morning.”
“Any chance they figured out there was a tracker on board?” Luke asked. Their first break would collapse if Ebeid was aware of the trucks’ GPS tracking devices.
Tanya shook her head. “Not from what Hank said.”
“Could anything short them out?” Declan asked.
“Water,” Luke said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they ditched the truck, submerging it somewhere in water, where it’d be unlikely to be found.”
“Hopefully, we’ll catch a hit on it from traffic cams,” Declan said. “See if we can’t deduce the direction it was headed and where it might have been dumped.”
“And the other four?” Luke asked.
Declan clutched the paper Tanya had written the locations on. “All at the same address in Sparrow’s Point.”
“Let’s pray that’s where they have Bedan and the weapons holed up,” Luke said, calling Mack to quickly pinpoint the location, while Declan did the same with the Bureau task force.
“Well?” Ebeid asked as Brandt entered.
Brandt cleared his throat. “I took care of all of them, but I was unable to locate Tanya.”
He waited for Ebeid’s response as the man simply drummed his fingers on the desk before him. Ebeid was known as a man who did not accept failure, as evidenced by his predecessor’s death, and he had flat-out failed his mission. He’d considered disappearing, but he wasn’t a coward. He’d track down and kill that woman if it was the last thing he did, but he had to own up to Ebeid first.
Ebeid’s fingers stilled and came together as he held his hand up and shooed away the man who’d been serving him tea.
“And how do you presume to excuse your failure?” he asked
once the servant was gone.
“I do not excuse it, sir. I only ask for the opportunity to finish my mission.”
“Finish your mission?” Ebeid arched a stark brow as he lifted his gold teacup just below his lips. “And how do you propose to do that?”
He clutched his black ski mask in his right hand, adrenaline pumping through him at a dizzying rate. “I will hunt Tanya down and finish the job.”
Ebeid took a thoughtful sip of his tea, then set his cup down. “But you felt it better to come here and tell me you failed, rather than doing that first?”
He cleared his throat. “I’d thought . . .”
“Thought?”
“You’d want to know the status.”
“I see. Well, I presume now that you have alerted me, you will complete your mission.”
“Yes, sir.” His stance reverted to the military one he’d known so well before becoming a mercenary.
“You have one chance.” Ebeid lifted his teacup again. “Finish the job.”
Khaled forced his hand to remain still, his fingers clasped around the cup, the unnerving sensation of unsteadiness shifting through him at the sight of the former young Marine now turned mercenary.
Perhaps it was his former service branch or his features so similar to Matthew’s that had kept Khaled from killing the mercenary, but Brandt would finish the job—Ebeid read it in his predatory gaze. Before the day was out Tanya would be dead.
Matthew’s young face on his Marine service portrait flashed through his mind.
Khaled’s son was betrayed by America, just as his father had been. But very soon the country that took his son and his father from him would crumble. He almost wished he’d let “Caroline” live to see the day, but the whore deserved to die at his hands. It was the last time he’d gotten his own hands dirty until he’d killed Cyrus, and he’d forgotten how magnificent it felt to pull the trigger. He envied Brandt’s next act, squelching the life out of Tanya as he had Caroline. Killing another person deserving of death was so liberating. He lifted Kate Maxwell’s recon photograph, delight surging through him, knowing she too would soon be dead.
22
Luke studied the Sparrow’s Point warehouse through his long-range binoculars as he very impatiently waited for Declan’s task force to arrive. Hank’s warehouse had been less than a five-minute drive away, while the team Declan requested had a healthy half-hour drive in front of them.