by G. K. Parks
We arrived a few minutes later and stepped into the command center. “You two look cozy,” Eve said. “Is this the honeymoon phase?”
“Zip it,” Decker growled.
Eve gave me a look, clearly wondering why Decker wasn’t his typical friendly self. I shook my head, pressing my lips together in warning. She gave a curt nod and busied herself with gathering whatever reports she had collected in our absence.
Ben kicked off the floor, rolling his chair toward the table in the middle of the room. He placed his tablet on top and hit a few keys, broadcasting the data to the large screen. “While we wait for Matt and Stella, the lab has been working around the clock to run through the samples you’ve collected. As you can tell, most are run-of-the-mill spices. We have our parsley, mint, basil, oregano, and thyme.”
“We get the point,” I interrupted. “Anything sinister?”
“Not sinister exactly. There were several varieties of kratom growing on the property.” Ben raised an eyebrow. “I can’t keep up if we still consider that a schedule I narcotic or not. Stella’s looking into it. If it is, it might provide enough evidence to conduct a raid.”
“And throw the entire op into jeopardy.” Jace shook his head. “If Tim’s growing it, he’ll defend it as a means to alleviate opium withdrawal symptoms. It’s no secret that several of his followers have addiction problems. He’d play it off as being a Good Samaritan. With the right judge, everything would be tossed, including whatever else we might find. I want something with teeth that isn’t a legal grey area.”
Ben scratched his head. “Then please turn your attention to door number three.” He clicked a few keys and a photo of a flowering plant, along with a molecular representation, filled the screen. “I believe we’ve identified the poison. Meet a member of the Strychnos family.”
“Like strychnine?” I asked, suddenly feeling like we were chasing a Bond villain.
Ben smiled. “Yep, except that comes from a tree. This is a plant. It’s not native to the area, but our climate is close enough for it to stay alive with the proper care. It produces a poison that causes muscle paralysis. As you probably remember,” Ben looked at me, “it impairs all voluntary muscle function as well as the diaphragm. That’s why you were having trouble breathing.”
“Is there an antidote?” Decker asked, studying the picture of the plant.
“One can be manufactured, but as long as breathing is maintained, the poison burns itself out after a while. The time it takes depends on the dosage. The only problem is it has to come into direct contact with the bloodstream. If ingested, it’s harmless,” Ben concluded.
Decker narrowed his eyes. “That’s not it. He dosed her food. We’re still missing something. Dammit.” Turning away from the table, he slammed his palm against the nearest desk. “Is there anything else?”
“That was it,” Ben replied, giving me another look. “Are you certain you didn’t get scratched or jabbed before your body locked up?”
“Not that I noticed.” I looked at Eve who was watching Decker with concern. “This morning, Anika was distraught. She didn’t tell me what was wrong, but she seems to be aware of something unsettling happening on the property. Now isn’t the best time for us to be away.” I turned to Ben. “Tell me about the cameras we planted on the premises. Is it possible to traipse past one without setting it off?”
“Ideally, no. Realistically, probably.”
Before Ben could go into the technical specifications, Matt and Stella entered the room. Carlo was two feet behind them, and with the rest of the team assembled, Decker dragged himself back to the table. I gave him a look, but his expression was unreadable. The last few times we’d been at headquarters, his frustration and annoyance had been an issue. Typically, he was relaxed. One could even call it chill, but being back here brought out the worst in him. I didn’t like it, but I imagined it was because seeing his team made him realize just how alone and in the cold he really was.
Stella dropped the paperwork on the table. “The assistant director approved a raid at your discretion. The kratom raises questions. However, the legality of the herb is currently being debated, so unless you have something more solid, the AUSA I spoke with warned that we should tread lightly.”
“We’ll hold off for now,” Decker declared. “What else do you have?”
Eckhardt cleared his throat. “A couple of things. First, a gangbanger was arrested for Vincent Harbring’s murder. The LAPD is pushing the kid hard for a confession. They identified the killer after pulling his prints from inside the abandoned vehicle. When officers arrested him, he had the murder weapon on him.”
“Obviously, he must have missed the crash course in gangbanging 101,” I muttered.
Eckhardt snorted. “Based on some nearby traffic cam footage, it appears the kid jacked the vehicle, shot the driver, left him for dead, and took off. He delivered the car to a chop shop several blocks away, and someone else drove it across state lines. It was a shitty car, not worth the effort of chopping, but the gangbanger wanted it for a reason. Forensics found traces of cocaine in the trunk. We’re thinking that’s why Harbring got jacked. The gang wanted what was in the trunk. We’re running a joint investigation with the police narcotics unit to monitor the chop shop for other drug related activity.”
Decker rubbed at his stubble. “Good. That could be promising. Have we managed to solidify Harbring’s connection to Wilde yet?”
Eckhardt shook his head. “We’re still working on it. In the meantime, we’re offering the killer incentives for any information he provides that will help our current investigation. He’s mulling it over with his attorney.”
“Anything else?” Decker queried, glancing at his watch.
“You’re not going to like it,” Carlo muttered, and all eyes turned to him. “But Shrieves supposedly hung himself in his cell a couple of hours ago. However, I do have my doubts. The guy was wanted for killing a police officer during a routine traffic stop.”
“Dammit,” I swore, “this is worse than some outlandish conspiracy theory.”
“Wait,” Decker’s focus went razor sharp, “get the details on the traffic stop. If Shrieves killed an officer for being pulled over, he probably had contraband in his vehicle. I want a full workup and profile on this guy — his known associates, any aliases, and prison stints. I want to know everything about him.” He let out an incredulous laugh. “No wonder Wilde didn’t care that he got arrested. He must have assumed the cops would take revenge or he’d off himself if caught, whichever the case may be.” He blinked a few times. “Check for any connections between the dead drug mules and Shrieves, Harbring, or the gangbanger. We need something solid, and we need it fast.” He pointed at the time. “We should get back. Call when you have something.” Without waiting for me, he left the room.
“Do me a favor,” I said, glancing at the door, “run everything you can on Anika again. I know you already have profiles on the flock, but she mentioned Vegas and S&M clubs. She said she sold her car years ago because she needed cash. See if you can find out what kind of trouble she was in and how she got mixed up with Wilde. There’s a chance we might be bringing her in, so we need to be prepared for that contingency.” I gave Eve a reassuring glance and ran for the door. It was time we headed back.
“Do you want me to drive?” I asked, eyeing Decker who had yet to turn the key in the ignition.
He shook his head and started the car. “This is a shitfest. We have another body to credit to Wilde, and we’re stuck chasing our tails.”
“Tell me about the men that signed on to be Perpetual Lighters. Wilde recruits women, but there are four or five guys currently at the co-op. What’s their deal?”
“They don’t fit the same profile as the women. I’ve never seen Wilde actively recruit any of them. Hell, they tend to just show up at his doorstep, looking for a handout. At least that was more or less how I infiltrated the cult. I’d say they were all drifters, homeless, down on their luck. Three of them ar
e recovering addicts. Before you ask, aside from petty larceny, possession, and public intoxication, they don’t have criminal records. Nothing violent. No indication that they were pushers. They were just bums. Statistically speaking, chances are they suffer from some kind of mental illness, but I’ve spoken to them. Whatever maladies they might have seem to be under control at the present.” Decker sighed. “Perhaps they’re self-medicating or all that sharing and therapy that Wilde harps on has actually helped them.”
“Or it’s bullshit,” I suggested. “They could be part of his network. He brings them in and lets them get close to the women to ensure a level of trust and obedience. Then after some time, he sends them away and uses them to run the women as mules.”
“I applaud that theory. To be honest, I had already considered it, but unless you can pull proof out of your ass, it’s nothing more than conjecture.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “How much faith do you have in Anika blowing this open for us?”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I watched Decker fidget on the drive back. Something had him twisted up inside, and I wasn’t completely convinced it was the case. We didn’t speak much. I was lost in thought, attempting to weave the random pieces of the puzzle together into a logical narrative. I had plenty of theories, but none of them provided a means by which to gain evidence. Something damning had to be on the property. We just needed to find it. Decker had done his best to search every nook and cranny since his arrival, but some areas were off limits. Now that there were two of us, our chances of snooping increased exponentially. The biggest obstacle was the surveillance equipment that Wilde had hidden throughout the compound.
“The camera feed goes somewhere, and since Tim is anti-technology in order to prevent outside influence and news from affecting his followers, it’s not like he has a computer bank out in the open. There must be some hidden parts to the compound that we just haven’t found yet.”
“Like I said, the entire upper level is a mystery to me. I’ve only been in Tim’s bedroom once, and that was to rescue you.”
Ignoring the condescending way he said the word rescue, I considered a few more things. “Are there generators on the property?”
“I don’t think so. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking he’ll be busy with the farmer’s market this weekend, so if we cut the power inside, I can snoop around undetected while you keep him distracted.”
“What if the cameras have a back-up?”
I shrugged. “What if they don’t?”
He stopped at a red light and closed his eyes for a moment. “Find out what you can from Anika first. Then we’ll take it from there.” He blinked a few times. “Be honest with me,” he shifted in his seat to look straight at me, “am I being too cautious? Is that why this investigation isn’t going anywhere?”
“It’s your op.”
“Alex,” he challenged.
“Trust your gut. If you think we need to be careful, we’ll be careful.”
“That is not an answer, Agent Parker.”
I stared at him, surprised that he referred to me in such an official capacity, particularly when we were less than ten miles from the co-op. Normally, he’d be back to being Jason Ellis by now. Something was definitely wrong. “What’s going on with you?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.
He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve been anxious since you told me about the conversation with Anika. If that asshole did something to her last night,” he bared his teeth, scowling, “I should have done something to stop it.”
My gut said it was time that we blow this mother out of the water, but my brain came up with twenty-four reasons why it was important to be cautious. Anything that disrupted Wilde’s perfect harmony would result in detriment to the men and women living on the grounds and whoever worked for him beyond those walls. Just bringing me onboard had resulted in two fatalities. Wilde was calculated and pragmatic. He would burn down every bridge before letting anyone get to him. That’s why Jace had been so cautious all along.
“Anika’s scared. All we know is it has something to do with Wilde. The sooner we get something on him, the sooner this stops. If he attacked her, it’s probably because he didn’t get to follow through with me.” I hated to think that someone had been assaulted right under our noses, and we were too clueless and blind to do anything to prevent it from happening. “You’re right. We should wait to see what she says before we do anything rash, but if her story doesn’t lead to something solid, I vote we take a more proactive stance in the future.”
“Agreed.”
Twenty-four
“Alex.” The voice yelling my name was no longer Martin’s. It sounded familiar, but no one was inside the house except Martin and the men hired to kill him. “Alex.”
I jolted upward, gun drawn and pointed at the cause of the disturbance. Decker stood in the doorway, a Glock down at his side. He didn’t make a move. He just stared at me from the darkened doorway. Flipping the safety on, I tucked my gun into my hiding spot between the mattress and frame.
“Sorry,” I muttered. Shaking it off, I ran through the possibilities for Decker to be in my bedroom. It was dark outside, so I hadn’t overslept. “Do we have something on the feed? Is Anika okay?”
“She’s fine. Nothing to report.” He reached behind him, grabbing the tablet and placing it on the dresser beside his weapon. “There’s been no movement inside the facility since I took over watch.” I raised my eyebrow, waiting for a reason why he woke me up two hours after I went to sleep. “Are you okay?”
“I was better two minutes ago before you woke me up.”
He cocked his head and snorted. “So that’s why you were screaming?”
“Shit.” I flopped down on the mattress, hoping he’d just let it go and we could have this conversation at a later date, preferably never, but the creaking floor told me that Decker planned on talking about this now. “I’m sorry that I disturbed you.”
“Don’t do that. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.” He moved around the room until he was in front of me, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. “Is this why you volunteered for this assignment? Did you become too much of a liability at the OIO?”
“I am not a liability. It’s called a nightmare, Jace. Get over it. Everyone has bad dreams.”
He rubbed at the light beard on his chin. “Not a liability? What would have happened if you had fallen asleep inside the co-op? You would have blown your cover and possibly mine. Did you ever think of that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Get real. I’m sure most of the women inside have nightmares. I was attacked by Wilde’s goons. Twice. That warrants a few bad dreams.”
He closed his eyes, fighting to control his words. “Yeah, and that’s why I gave you the benefit of the doubt. But I have listened to you cry and scream every single night since you moved into the trailer. I have half a mind to pull you off this mission.” Shaking his head, he set his jaw. “But we’d lose more by doing that than what we can gain.” He glared at me. “You should have disclosed when you realized what the op entailed. How long have the nightmares been an issue?”
“They aren’t. I have it handled. Don’t start some psychobabble bullshit. I don’t want to hear it. I’m fine. Really.” Flipping over, I hoped that Decker would get the message and drop it. However, it was obvious the former therapist wasn’t about to do that.
He bumped the mattress with his leg. “From what I gather, you keep having the same dream. Am I right?”
“Yes.” Growing even more agitated, I threw off the covers and sat up in bed. “Next question. And before you say that I’m agitated, angry, or irritable, I’d like to point out that I haven’t had a chance to sleep yet, so it’s wholly justified. Frankly, shooting you might also be.”
He chuckled. “At least you’re familiar with the symptoms of PTSD.”
“I don’t have PTSD. Do you want to know what I have?” I stared him down l
ike a speeding train, daring him to ask but silently willing him to walk away. He nodded. “A broken heart.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “It sounded more like you were begging for your life.” His eyes moved to my wrists. “It would be completely understandable if you were remembering being tortured after Anika harped on that point.”
“God.” I climbed out of bed and left the room, heading for the kitchen. I needed some space to breathe. “Don’t even. I told you about what caused my scars because it was relevant to the case. That’s the only reason I mentioned it, and for the record, I haven’t had those dreams in a long time.”
Decker followed behind me, replacing his gun in the hidden compartment in the kitchen cabinet. Perhaps he feared I’d take it away from him and shoot him. Admittedly, that thought was growing in appeal by the second. I filled a glass with water, swished it around my mouth, and swallowed.
“I’ve seen your other scars, Alex. You’ve been in a few bad situations. I’m not faulting you for that, but we need to be honest with one another. I need to know where your head is in order to have your back. If this op is getting to be too much for you, I need to know.”
Biting back the comment I wanted to make about Decker’s head being up Tim’s ass, I was too exhausted and frustrated to bother continuing the fight. It’d be easier to tell Decker what he wanted to know instead of arguing with him over it. Draining the glass, I put it in the sink.
“My nightmares have nothing to do with any of the scars you’ve seen. I just miss someone back home.”
“Your ex-boyfriend?”
I nodded, and he let out a disbelieving huff.
“What the hell does that have to do with a gunfight?” he asked.