by G. K. Parks
“How was the flight?” Mark asked, eyeing the suitcase I was rolling behind me.
“Not too bad. I couldn’t review any of my notes for court because that material is here. I’m sure the prosecutor isn’t pleased with this fly by night arrangement.”
Mark chuckled. “So true. They’re actually waiting for you at the federal building. From the way the case has been progressing, you won’t be testifying until this afternoon, so from now until then, you’ll be prepped.”
“Are they bringing Lucca in on this?”
“He’s already here. Damn, I never thought I’d see the day that you actually admitted to missing him.” We made our way out of the airport and to the SUV. In the cup holder was a green concoction. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast. Kale smoothies, right?”
“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m drinking that.”
“But it’s your favorite.”
Maybe I’d just have a cab take me to the federal building. The taxi might have some kind of strange stench and the driver might not speak very good English, but at least it wouldn’t come with this type of harassment. Picking up the cup, I held it out to Jablonsky. “If it’s so great, why don’t you take a sip?”
“No, I stopped special and got that just for you.”
I pulled out my phone to check messages. At least this trip meant I didn’t have to maintain radio silence. Finding several messages from Eve, I absently took a sip from the cup without thinking. Gagging on the bitter sludge, I put it back in the cup holder. “You’re evil. What the hell is that?”
“Something I found in the crisper drawer of my fridge.” He laughed, tossing the cup out the window and reaching into the rear cup holder. “Let an old man have his fun.” He placed a large coffee into my empty hand, and I inhaled deeply while scanning through the messages. “How are things with the DEA?”
I shrugged. “They have an odd way of investigating. We discovered a staircase two weeks ago. Last week, Decker realized that it connected to underground tunnels, but we have yet to explore the tunnels. We have no idea what’s down there or where they lead. I don’t understand his reticence. Everything is always being delayed or taken over by the locals. Hell, the only reason this op is taking so long is because they’re too careful. Didn’t you tell me they were cowboys?”
“Did anyone give you any explanation why they aren’t charging ahead?”
“They don’t want to risk compromising our covers or spooking the mark. Originally, we were under the assumption that Wilde was running his own drug operation, but something changed. The latest intel suggests that he’s linked to one of the Mexican cartels. Maybe the Mexican cartel.”
“That’s why they’re being careful.” Jablonsky chewed on his bottom lip. “They aren’t too worried about this schmuck. They’re worried that the investigation is going to lead to something with real teeth and a lot of reach, so they’re waiting to build a case against the big fish.” He sighed. “God, you’re cursed.”
“Tell me about it.” After making a note to get back to Eve after my court appearance, I stowed my phone, closed my eyes, and sipped my coffee. Life could have been this easy, but I had to go and throw a wrench in the works. “I saw Martin’s magazine cover shoot.”
“Yeah.” Mark was going to make me work for this.
“It’s probably a great way to score. Is he trolling the clubs with a few extra copies on hand?”
“That would explain the case of magazines he had delivered.”
“Only one?”
Jablonsky snorted. “Isn’t that enough?” He turned into the underground parking garage. “Is there a point to your musings?” He parked the car and met my eyes. “Go ahead and ask whatever it is that’s on your mind. You have about five minutes until you’re bombarded with work. So now’s your chance.”
“Has he moved on?”
“Marty’s an alpha male. He’s wealthy, charming, and good looking. It wouldn’t take much, even though he doesn’t have a lick of sense when it comes to interacting with those of the female persuasion. Didn’t you tell him to move on?”
“Yep.”
“Then I wouldn’t worry about it.” He led the way to the elevator. “I picked up the clothes you wanted for court. They’re hanging in my office. Go upstairs, get changed, and get to work. After you have your day in court, I’ll take you to dinner. Maybe you’ll even bother to ask how I’m doing.”
I looked at him. “How are you doing? Is everything around the office quiet? Or have there been some new revelations?”
“Everything’s running smoothly. Things are pretty good. If you get a chance, you should ask Lucca how he’s enjoying D.C.”
“I’ll do that.”
Following Jablonsky to his office, I grabbed the garment bag from behind his door and took the elevator down to the locker rooms. After changing, I went in search of the AUSA. The prosecutor was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Several file boxes were on the table, and Lucca was seated beside them.
“You started the party without me?” I asked, entering the conference room. I nodded to the AUSA. “Alexis Parker reporting for duty.”
He glanced up, obviously preoccupied. “Agent Parker, sorry for the inconvenience.” He slid a box closer to one of the chairs. “These are copies of the evidence and files relating to this case. Please review them. It’s been several months, but you will be asked about the role you played, and it’s best that you refresh your memory.” His phone buzzed, and he checked the display. “Excuse me.”
The door closed, and I gently kicked Lucca in the shin. “What? No hello?”
“Parker,” his face remained neutral, but I liked to believe he was hiding a grin, “it’s nice to see you again, even if you stole my case.” He dropped the folder to the table and looked at me. “Maybe I should thank you for saving me from that boorish DEA agent.” He glanced out the glass door, keeping an eye on our babysitter. “Seriously, what the hell were you thinking, volunteering to get involved in that mess? You sat behind a desk for weeks on end, never complaining about being pulled from the field, and then you go and do something as stupid as this. Why?”
“Someone needed to do it, and you left. It was time I had a fresh start too.”
Something passed over his features. “This isn’t my fault. And for the record, running away makes you look guilty. Thankfully, there was no discernible connection or any evidence to support such a claim. And if there was, it must have vanished.”
“Eddie,” I began, but he let out a sharp shh seconds before the door opened.
For the next several hours, we read through the files, answered questions, and discussed our roles in the investigation. Around noon, the AUSA moved us from the OIO offices to the federal courthouse. With the constant in and outs, I didn’t get a chance to ask Lucca any questions or explain what had happened. It was bad enough that we had to give testimony on this case. It had been brutal, and I’d come pretty close to a breakdown. Lucca had seen everything firsthand. He’d voiced several complaints and concerns regarding my performance, and the defense would probably want to bring all of that to light. However, regardless of the amount of dirt they kicked up, there was no denying that the defendant was involved in terrorist activities that resulted in several dozen casualties.
After being sworn in and testifying as to my role, the scope of the investigation, and the procurement of evidence, I was cross-examined. By the end, I had a splitting headache. They’d put me through the wringer, but the facts were on our side. The case was solid. Everything had happened by the book. There were no exceptions, and given the atrocious acts that occurred, it wouldn’t have served justice to let this shithead off on a technicality, had there been one.
“Do you need a ride back to the OIO building?” Lucca asked. “Or would you prefer going straight to a bar?”
“Mark promised to take me to dinner. I can’t afford to get blitzed. My flight leaves in sixteen hours.” I glanced at him. “A ride would be nic
e.”
We walked to the car, exhausted by the ordeal. “You know, you’re one hell of an agent,” Lucca declared. He unlocked the doors, and we climbed inside. “I believe in you, Parker. Today served as a perfect reminder of that.” He started the engine, waiting for a break in traffic to pull out. “Jablonsky asked that I keep him updated on the oversight investigation into this field office. Your resignation and reinstatement garnered some attention, but there was no paper trail or any indication that you had ties to crime lords. However, the police investigation into the nightclub fire turned up a photo on traffic cams from a few blocks away that put someone with a striking resemblance to you within the vicinity. No positive identification was ever made, and there’s no reason to believe that the vehicle in question or its occupants had anything to do with what occurred. None of the police file into the nightclub fire ever made it into any official OIO investigation file, and it never will.”
I blinked, feeling overcome by everything. Lucca was the most straight-laced, by the book agent I’d ever met. If he had done something to protect me, he shouldn’t have, but I was eternally grateful. “Thank you.”
“Was it self-defense?” His focus didn’t waver. He didn’t ask if I was involved, which meant he already knew.
“In a way, but it was mainly defense of another. Several others, actually.”
Before I could launch into any details, he nodded. “I knew you had a reason. I know you. You’d do anything to save someone else, but you should have reported it.”
“I didn’t exactly follow protocol. When I confronted him, we didn’t have legal grounds to stand on.”
He nodded. “I wish I had known you were going through this. It explains a lot about your behavioral changes and attitude. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.” I laughed. “Actually, I’m not. The night of your going away party, I broke up with Martin, volunteered for this fucked up assignment, and now I’m back in the same damn situation. We don’t have evidence that furthers the agenda of the op, but we found a lot of shit that adds up to some very questionable things. Bodies keep turning up, but we don’t have proof that the cult leader is involved. At least not yet. Everything is circumstantial. I need to call Eve and see what she’s found.” I paused. “Sorry, I’m probably breaking protocol by telling you this.”
“You’re not. Jablonsky read me in. Being in D.C. comes with certain perks. I’ve been researching some possible connections and passing the data along to the DEA. I’ll keep my ear to the ground in case the state department or customs office hears any rumblings from the Mexican government.”
“Thanks, Lucca.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He dropped me off at the OIO building, and I detoured to my desk. Picking up the phone, I dialed Eve. Her messages didn’t make a lot of sense, and I wanted to find out what was happening with the case. Since Decker was limiting outside communication, it was possible that I’d have to brief him upon my return.
“I can’t imagine it’s a coincidence. I don’t really get it, but there has to be something to it, right?” Eve asked, sounding as though she’d broken into Ben’s stash of energy drinks.
“Slow down. You said that you found a link between Melanie Shaw and Anika. Obviously, the connection is Wilde. So what the hell are you talking about?”
She exhaled. “Their stays at the commune don’t overlap. Melanie left before Anika ever joined. But they have a mutual friend — Natalie DuBois.”
“That name sounds familiar.”
“It should. She was in the photo you found in Anika’s belongings.”
Nodding, I leaned forward, typing in the name. “She’s a reporter for one of Nevada’s biggest newspapers.” Keying in the name of the paper, I scrolled through the pages dedicated to the writing staff. DuBois was on an extended absence to conduct research for a series of articles she planned to write. No additional information was given, and I closed the page to perform a background search. “How did she know Shaw?” I asked.
“She basically ruined the woman’s life. She wrote a scathing exposé on insider trading, the dark side of financial management, and the downfall of the financial elite. Part of her story covered Shaw’s mismanagement of her clients’ funds, her own funds, and the resulting SEC investigation. There were some direct quotes from Shaw, so I imagine she must have interviewed her. Shaw lost it big, so she wasn’t facing hard time for swindling or embezzling. From what I read, it sounded almost like DuBois was sympathizing with her plight,” Eve said.
“DuBois knew Shaw and Anika, and they both ended up seeking out Wilde when things went pear-shaped.” I bit my lip, mulling over the possibilities. “Someone needs to go have a talk with Ms. DuBois.”
“Matt’s on his way to her last known address. We already contacted her boss at the paper, but he hasn’t seen her in several months. She called him a couple of weeks ago, promising a huge break in the story she was working, but he wouldn’t tell us what it was. Frankly, I’m under the impression that he doesn’t know. From the way he made it sound, she did quite a bit of freelance and was being scouted by major news outlets. It sounds like he was desperate to keep her, even if that meant she could call the shots.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, the headache I’d had since the afternoon was getting worse. “We need her financials. Have you come across her name in any of Tim’s files?”
“Nope. You might also find it interesting that none of Tim’s former followers have a folder inside that drawer. The records you and Jace found are only on current members. If he was keeping intimate details to use as blackmail, why wouldn’t he still be in possession of them?”
“He probably moved them to a different room.” My mind drifted to the storage area in the spare bedroom. “Is there anything else I should know?”
She sighed. “We’re still working on analyzing everything. You’ll get a full update tomorrow before you return to the commune. Have a safe flight.”
After hanging up, I made my way to Mark’s office. Hovering in the doorway, I gripped the frame and blinked a few times. He glanced up, his brows scrunching together.
“Are you okay?”
“Do you see an axe through the center of my skull?”
He chuckled. “No. You probably just need something to eat. Did the prosecutor’s office even offer to buy lunch?”
“We didn’t have time.” I looked down the hallway toward the bullpen and other offices. “Time flies. Maybe I’ll just grab something on my way home, drop my useless luggage off, and sleep in my own bed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been away for three months. You can’t just turn in early. Shouldn’t you be on California time? That would make it feel like,” he checked his watch, “five o’clock to you. Come on.” He shut down the computer and locked his office. “We’ll go to that greasy spoon near your place that way if you want to duck out early, you can.”
On the ride to the diner, Jablonsky chattered about current investigations, his attempts to remodel the bathroom, and the basketball games that he and Martin had seen. I zoned out from time to time, wanting the blinding pain in my skull to stop. By the time he parked a block from the diner, I was feeling a bit nauseous.
We took a seat in one of the back booths. Mark didn’t make a move for the menu. Instead, he checked his watch again.
“Do you have a hot date?” I asked.
“No, but you do.”
Dropping the menu to the table, I narrowed my eyes. The headache must have made me delusional. “What?”
“It’s been three months. Marty’s been dying to see you. He said you called like a month and a half ago. Not to put too much emphasis on the fact that unauthorized communication is banned, but you wouldn’t have done that without a good reason.”
“Mark,” I shook my head, “I can’t. I can’t do this now.”
“Too late.” He stood, waving to Martin who had just stepped inside the diner. “I’ll pick you up at eight thirty in the morning for
a quick briefing at the OIO before you hop a plane. I’d suggest you get some sleep. You look like shit. But this might be more important.” He smiled encouragingly. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Glaring at him, he walked toward the entrance, clapping Martin on the shoulder and whispering something to him before leaving the diner. My heart skipped a beat when James Martin started walking toward me. Honestly, I might have been having chest pains. Pair that with the headache and queasiness and I had grounds to go to the ER.
“Alex,” his voice broke my heart, and the look on his face ground the broken bits into dust, “you’re back.”
“For the next fifteen hours.” There was so much to say, but none of it felt right. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“God, you’re so beautiful.” His eyes searched mine. “How are you? The last time we spoke,” he inhaled, rubbing his mouth while trying to come up with something to say, “I didn’t realize… Have you come up with anything?”
“Not yet.” I tore my eyes away from him, feeling as though seeing him was boring a hole through me. “I didn’t mean to imply that you should wait. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He leaned back in the booth, watching as I fidgeted with the menu. “Actually, that phone call set some things in motion. It made me realize quite a bit.”
“Oh?” The room was getting too warm, and a layer of sweat broke out on my skin.
“I’ve been seeing someone.”
A sharp pain shot upward from my low belly through my abdomen. I was going to be sick. “That’s great. Really, it’s wonderful. I’m happy for you.”
He smirked in smug amusement. “Are you sure you don’t want to use a few more positive adjectives to convince me of that fact?” He leaned forward. “Admit it, you want to get back together. You practically said as much on the phone. Until you called, I had no idea how upset you were. You really would change what happened if you could.” He blinked a few times. “That’s all I needed to hear.”