Misplaced Trust

by G. K. Parks

  Misplaced Trust

  An Alexis Parker Novel

  G.K. Parks

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other concepts are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, establishments, events, and locations is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author.

  Copyright © 2018 G.K. Parks

  A Modus Operandi imprint

  All rights reserved.

  Print ISBN: 1942710089

  Print ISBN-13: 978-1-942710-08-0

  Full-length Novels in the Alexis Parker Series:

  Likely Suspects

  The Warhol Incident

  Mimicry of Banshees

  Suspicion of Murder

  Racing Through Darkness

  Camels and Corpses

  Lack of Jurisdiction

  Dying for a Fix

  Intended Target

  Muffled Echoes

  Crisis of Conscience

  Misplaced Trust

  Whitewashed Lies

  On Tilt

  Prequel Alexis Parker Novellas:

  Outcomes and Perspective: The Complete Prequel Series

  Assignment Zero (Prequel series, #1)

  Agent Prerogative (Prequel series, #2)

  The Final Chapter (Prequel series, #3)

  Julian Mercer Novels

  Condemned

  Betrayal

  Subversion

  For my mom and dad

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  One

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I challenged.

  James Martin checked his pockets, ensuring that he had his phone and wallet. He adjusted his sleeves and regarded his cufflinks to make sure they were fastened. He glanced back at me, clearly confused. Scanning his reflection, he ran a hand through his dark brown hair, straightened his tie, and smoothed the creases on his jacket. I snorted, making my annoyance known.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You forgot to say thank you, ma’am.”

  He smirked. “You don’t like being called ma’am.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Alexis,” he sighed, “not this again. You know I have an early morning meeting, and I need to spend tonight preparing.”

  “In a three piece suit?”

  “Luc and I are meeting over drinks to discuss strategy.”

  “Fine.” I rolled onto my side, so I didn’t have to look at him. “Lock the door on your way out.”

  “Sweetheart,” he cooed, “I wanted to see you, but I don’t have a lot of spare time.”

  “You never do,” I muttered. “Just go. You don’t want to keep Luc waiting.”

  He hesitated for a brief moment. Then without another word, he walked out of the bedroom. Once I heard the door slam, I climbed out of bed. Something shiny caught my eye, and I picked up the engagement ring that sat on top of my dresser. His proposal had been magical and all the things most girls would want, except I wasn’t most girls. What followed were numerous freakouts amidst mortal peril and the events that turned us into this. We weren’t exactly Sid and Nancy, probably more Nick and Nora, but then again, I might be remembering Hammett wrong. The only thing I knew for certain was that I deserved this – the cold indifference, the emptiness, the hurt.

  Most men would have walked away a long time ago, but Martin was different. Perhaps he was a masochist, or he had the world’s worst savior complex. Either way, I had lied to him and betrayed him, but my deception had been for his own good. Or so I told myself.

  My work had always been dangerous. Even when I went on sabbatical from the Office of International Operations, a branch of the FBI, trouble always found me. Occasionally, that meant his life was also in jeopardy, and I would be damned if I’d let anyone hurt him. Somehow, that insistence had strained our relationship to the point that I was once again living alone in my apartment. We had taken a huge step backward, which I wouldn’t have minded if some things were the same, but everything was different. It was true what they say; you never appreciate what you have until it’s gone.

  The phone rang, and relief washed over me. Finally, something to derail this pity party. Checking the caller ID, I chuckled and answered the phone.

  “Did you forget how to catalog evidence?” I asked.

  “Parker,” my partner, Eddie Lucca, growled, “where the hell are you?”

  “At home.”

  “Not for long. Jablonsky wants your ass back in the office. He’s on a tear. Again.”

  “What happened this time?”

  Under normal conditions, Lucca would have gone home several hours earlier. It was nearly ten p.m. Most federal agents ducked out at five if they could get away with it. On the days that we didn’t have an ongoing op in play, even I’d occasionally leave early. Today was an excellent case in point.

  “We’re overloaded with the sheer volume of connected cases, and the DEA requested our assistance with something. Director Kendall has everyone assisting OCU, and Jablonsky thinks you should be here to help out.”

  “I’m on my way.” I had a love-hate relationship with the job. Most of the time, I hated it and the things I’d done, but I had to admit, I loved working cases. And at the moment, I needed the distraction.

  Arriving at the federal building, I took the elevator to the OIO level and stepped into the corridor. A few agents were in one of the larger conference rooms. Mark Jablonsky’s office door was ajar, but he wasn’t inside. Lucca was holed up at his desk with folders stacked higher than his head. My desk had a few items piled up, but for the most part, it looked like I might have been the only one who wasn’t behind on work.

  “What’s the latest?” I took a seat and hit the computer’s power button.

  Lucca rolled his eyes, picking up half the folders and placing them in front of me. “Here. Thanks for volunteering to help.” He returned to his side of the aisle and leaned back in his chair. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “At the beginning. When I left three hours ago, you said you’d be finished in twenty minutes. I’ve heard of performance anxiety, but this is ridiculous. Your wife must be a very patient woman.”

  Glaring, he chose to ignore the dig. Although I suspected he might file a sexual harassment complaint at some point. “I would have left on time, except we received a request from the DEA for a full workup on a group of individuals they’re investigating.”

  “Are they part of a cartel?” I asked, unsure why this was our problem.

  “They might be. The FBI didn’t posse
ss any info on these individuals, but according to the IRS, they’ve filed for a religious exemption.”

  “So we’re talking about a cult.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Lucca retorted, playing the politically correct card. “Maybe they are a co-op of like-minded individuals who believe in the same higher power.”

  “Do we know the cult leader’s name?”

  “Tax forms were filed by Timothy Wilde. I’ve run a complete background. He has a record, accused of sexual assault and possession with intent.”

  “Lovely.” Opening the top folder, I skimmed through the pages. “Question,” I held up one of the forms, “what does that have to do with these files?”

  “While I was busy running Mr. Wilde and his cohorts through the database, Jablonsky dropped off a dozen cases that need review. Obviously, since I was the one assigned to repair the internal leak, our boss thinks that I should also be in charge of double-checking our recent case work for any bias or compromise.”

  “In other words, none of this is actually my problem.” Turning the screws was one of my favorite pastimes when it came to dealing with the boy scout.

  “Parker,” he growled, “you owe me.”

  “Actually, I don’t. That debt has been repaid, but I’ll help anyway.” I keyed in the first case in the stack. “Does the DEA think that Wilde is importing drugs and selling them on behalf of our friends south of the border?”

  “I don’t know what they think. They didn’t say why they needed the intel. They just wanted our assessment. I assume they must have an operative in play or are planning some sort of infiltration. Why else would they send us the request? They could have gotten the intel on their own.”

  “We do have more funding,” I mused, “but it is strange they asked. Something else must be going on.” Getting distracted by the more interesting possibilities, I opened a second browser window and read through the most recent intelligence reports. However, there was no mention of Wilde or updated cartel activity. “Whatever. As long as they don’t make this our issue, I guess it doesn’t matter.” I went back to analyzing the stack of OIO cases. “How many more all-nighters do you think we’ll have to pull before we’re back on solid ground?”

  “This should be the last one. It’s been a couple of months. There can’t be that many more cases to evaluate after this.” Lucca shook his head. “Next week, the AG hands down the rest of the indictments. They just want to make sure everything will hold up in court since our compromised agent and the data breach nearly destroyed everything.”

  “By the way, you said Jablonsky wanted me back here. So where the hell is he?”

  “He’ll be back soon. He’s coordinating a raid.” Lucca gestured obliquely to the area behind him. “I’m surprised we weren’t tasked with assisting.” For several minutes we worked in silence until Lucca let out a confused grunt. “Come to think of it, we haven’t been tasked with any field work at all.”

  “So?” I didn’t bother to look up. I was aware of that fact and had my suspicions as to the reason why.

  “Did you request desk duty?”

  “No.”

  “How’s your wrist?” Lucca asked, unwilling to drop this line of questioning. Obviously, the boy scout must have been yearning to conduct an interrogation.

  “It’s fine.” Without turning, I picked up the nearest coffee cup and held it in the air. “No shakes. Would you prefer if I aim my firearm at you?”

  “That won’t be necessary. So it isn’t because you’re injured. Is it because you haven’t shaken the fear of dying yet?”

  “Lucca,” I snapped, focusing my attention on him, “do you want my help or not? I’ll leave if the only reason you called was to bust my chops.”

  He shook his head. “I just don’t get it, and I don’t get why you aren’t chomping at the bit to get back in the field. You hate this office. You hate being stuck behind a desk. You like being out there, so why are you acting perfectly content to conduct analyses and reviews?”

  “That’s part of the job, and unlike you, I can actually keep up with the workload.” Giving him an icy glare, I went back to tackling the files for which he was responsible.

  “Parker,” Mark Jablonsky bellowed, “my office. Now.”

  “Sounds like someone’s in trouble,” Lucca teased, but I couldn’t help but wonder how true those words might be.

  Taking a deep breath, I finished what I was doing and went down the corridor to Mark’s office. Stepping inside, I found my mentor pouring a shot of whiskey into a glass. Drinking on the job was typically frowned upon, but it was late. So he could take a creative license to a few of the rules.

  “Alex,” he jerked his chin toward the sofa in the corner, “why don’t you have a seat? Do you want a drink?”

  “No.”

  “Right.” He nodded, remembering my aversion to liquor. “Is there anything I should know?”

  Swallowing, I was suddenly filled with apprehension. I’d been harboring a deep dark secret for a while now. I always suspected Mark knew but thought better than to ask. However, I wasn’t entirely sure how true that was.

  “I don’t know.” I slumped onto the sofa, squelching my ingrained desire to pace. “What are we talking about?”

  “I was at Marty’s the other day,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair and swiveling to face me. “Do you know what I discovered?”

  “That he’s building a robot army in the basement?”

  Mark chuckled politely, but it was apparent he wasn’t amused. “No.” He eyed me. “You don’t live there anymore.”

  “I don’t?” I did my best to appear shocked.

  “Cut the bullshit. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. He needed space. Maybe we both did. I don’t know.”

  “The two of you will figure it out.” He took another sip, bolstering his courage. “That’s not the problem.”

  “There’s a problem?”

  “I asked what led to your changing living arrangements.” He emptied the glass and put it on the desk. Then he crossed the room and sat next to me, making sure the door was closed. “You never went to London. You were here when the club caught fire and when seven bodies were pulled out of the back room.” He held up a hand before I could say anything. “I don’t blame you. You didn’t have a choice, but I do not want to know any details. Speculation doesn’t mean shit, and I have no reason to speculate. That wasn’t our case. Murder and arson are dealt with by the police department, not the OIO. Is there any way this will bounce back on you?”

  “I hope not. Nothing has so far.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He inhaled deeply. “Does anyone know about this?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Marty doesn’t know what happened?”

  “Not in any specific terms.” I sighed. “That’s not why he kicked me out. At least, I don’t think it is. Then again, who would want to live with a killer?”

  “Alex,” Mark warned, but his voice held that fatherly quality, like he wanted to provide comfort and tell me everything would be okay instead of chastising me, “this job comes with some really shitty possibilities. You’re not a killer. Do you remember what I told you after your very first field assignment?”

  “Never use that word because it’s loaded.”

  “That’s right. Plus, we stop killers through any means necessary. That doesn’t mean we are killers.”

  “Tomato, tomato,” I pronounced the word differently.

  “Just know, if something pops up concerning this, I’ll take care of it,” Mark promised. Clearing his throat, he went back to his desk. “Now on to other matters, we need to talk about Lucca.”

  “What about him? Did he file a complaint against me? I swear, that man can’t take a joke.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Is this about his sudden desire to be out in the field?”

  “He noticed the two of you have been benched?”

  “It has been pretty obviou
s. We’re the only active agents who haven’t been assigned an op in a couple of months. Perhaps you should reassign him until you figure out what the hell you’re going to do with me.”

  “Actually, that’s already been done.”

  Two

  “What?” I blinked a few times, failing to comprehend what I just heard.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Mark said. He sifted through the paperwork on his desk. “As you know, Lucca was assigned to the OIO from the D.C. office to ferret out our leak. His job’s done. They want to recall him.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Director Kendall believes Eddie’s an asset, and since he works under me, I’m to provide a thorough evaluation — strengths, weaknesses, the whole nine. I figured you’d be the best place to start. Do you want him to stay?”

  Oddly enough, I realized I did. It was a strange revelation since the last thing I ever wanted was a partner. Eddie Lucca had been forced upon me when I was reinstated. He’d inundated me with rules and regulations and had been a thorn in my side ever since we met. However, at some point, I put my trust in him. I didn’t want to lose another partner. Honestly, I never wanted to lose anyone ever again.

  “It shouldn’t be up to me. He has a wife and daughter. You’re in charge. You figure out if he’s a good fit for our unit, and if he is, then maybe you should ask him if he wants to stay. Lucca probably had a life in D.C. that he was forced to leave. Maybe he’d like to go back to it.”

  Jablonsky narrowed his eyes. “You’re telling me that you’re okay with him staying here?”

  I shrugged.

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me. After I’ve had to listen to you moan and groan about how you never wanted a partner again and how annoying and incompetent he is, you’re now telling me that you’re fine letting him stick around? Are you feeling okay?” A dark, knowing look crossed Jablonsky’s face. “How long are you planning to stay once he’s gone?”

  “I’ll stay for as long as you want. I’ve already let you down so many times. I won’t do it again. You have my word.”