Celeste sucked in a gasp, making both Peyton and Radar jerk their heads up.
The bearded man stood on the platform, waiting to board their car.
“Radar,” Peyton said in warning.
“I see him.”
The door before them opened. Peyton had enough time to make eye contact with the bearded man before people shoved past her, trying to get out. Radar grabbed her and Celeste, forcing them into the crowd, moving toward the other end of the car. Panic rose inside of Peyton as she was jostled against other people. The announcement came over the speakers and the doors swished closed.
The car lurched forward, throwing Peyton into a heavy woman who glared at her. “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to see the bearded man had gotten onto their car and was trying to make his way toward them.
Just as they made it to the other door, Radar turned around, his hand moving inside his jacket to curl around the handle of his gun. Peyton had a moment to envision the bloodshed that might occur if the two men began firing at each other before they lurched into the next stop, throwing everyone forward.
The doors popped open with the bearded man in the middle of the car, surrounded by people. Peyton grabbed Celeste’s hand and jumped out onto the platform, then reached back in and tugged Radar after her. They started running for the escalator as the announcement came over the speaker and the doors shut again. They reached the top of the landing and Peyton urged Celeste to begin descending, then Peyton and Radar glanced back at the monorail, watching it pull away with the bearded man still caught in the middle of the car.
“This is just terminal 2. We better hoof it,” warned Radar, nudging Peyton forward.
They ran down the escalator and ducked into the terminal. Radar flagged down a security guard on a golf cart and showed him his badge. “We need to get to terminal 3.” He motioned to Celeste. “What gate?”
“Gate 84,” she said.
“Get on,” said the guard and the three of them climbed aboard.
He whisked them expertly through the airport and up to the security checkpoint before the gates. Radar showed the police at the checkpoint his badge and they rushed Celeste through the process, not even batting an eye when both Peyton and Radar showed them their guns.
They made it to the gate with only a few minutes to spare. Celeste’s flight was boarding, but she paused and threw her arms around Peyton, hugging her close.
“Thank you for everything,” she whispered in her ear.
“No problem,” said Peyton. “Let us know where you are as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
“Stay safe, Celeste.”
She squeezed Peyton’s hand and blinked back tears. “Please find my Joe,” she said.
“We’ll do our best,” Peyton answered.
“Thank you, Radar,” Celeste called and he waved her off, his attention focused on the people meandering about.
Turning, Celeste hurried into the tunnel, leading to her flight. A few seconds later, a flight attendant closed the tunnel door, but still Peyton and Radar didn’t leave, not until they saw Celeste’s plane begin to taxi away from the terminal.
When it turned toward the runway, Radar exhaled in relief. “Ready to go, Sparky.”
Peyton nodded. “What do you really think is going on, Radar?” she said, falling into step beside him.
“I have no idea, but whatever it is, it’s not good.”
“I need to call Sarge and tell her Celeste made her flight.”
“Do that once we get to the car…” he began, then he suddenly stopped walking.
Peyton looked to where he was staring and saw the bearded man standing a ways from them, watching them in return.
“I’ve had just about enough of that guy. I want to know who the hell he is,” snarled Radar, reaching under his jacket for his gun, then he moved in the guy’s direction.
Instead of following him, Peyton deliberately lifted her phone and snapped off a number of pictures. Whether it was that or Radar moving toward him, he suddenly decided he didn’t want to confront them. He turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.
Radar hesitated, easing his hand out from inside his jacket. “That bastard’s starting to get on my nerves,” he said, glancing over at Peyton.
“Mine too, but I think I’ve got a pretty good photo this time.”
Radar moved back and looked at her picture. “Quick thinking, Sparky. Now, let’s get the hell out of here. I hate airports and I have a bad feeling we’re gonna be flying real soon.”
“Wonder what this one will be?”
“What do you mean?”
“What mythical creature? We’ve already had a werewolf, so Beardy McBearderson doesn’t really fit.”
“Beardy McBearderson?” They started walking toward the monorail again.
“Well, we can’t keep calling him Baldy, now can we? That’s offensive to the folically challenged.”
“Who was calling him Baldy?”
“I was. In my head.”
Radar put a hand on her head and patted it. “I don’t really want to know what goes on in here, Sparky. I fear it’s a veritable funhouse with mirrored mazes.”
“Fine.” She flipped around and walked backwards. “How do you feel about Korean barbecue?”
“What?”
“Korean barbecue. That’s what Abe’s making tonight at the D’Angelos’. You’re welcome to join us.”
“An awful lot of words in that sentence don’t make sense to me.” When she opened her mouth to explain, he held up a hand. “Don’t bother. I wasn’t kidding when I said Gwen and I had a couple massage and…”
Peyton put her fingers in her ear and sang, “Lalalalala,” to drown him out.
CHAPTER 10
Radar finished filling Rosa in on the adventure Peyton and he’d had the previous day. “When I started toward him to confront him, he disappeared in the crowd. I probably should have confronted him on the monorail.”
“And what? We don’t know what we’re dealing with. What if he pulled a gun?”
Radar shook his head. “I don’t know, but what the hell is going on?”
Rosa tapped her pencil on her blotter. “I’ve been resisting this, but I guess I have no choice. I’ve got to call the Chief Inspector.”
Radar crossed one ankle over his knee. “You’re gonna be stonewalled. Federal agencies still don’t know how to play nice with each other.”
“Yeah, but my people are involved now, so I don’t have much choice. Besides, I owe it to Joe and Celeste. Joe was my partner for a long time, Radar. We’re like family.”
“I get that. What do you want me to do?”
“Stryker leaves Wednesday. Tank and Bambi are due back today, right?”
“Right.”
“Get them into training with Stryker today or tomorrow.”
“What about this other thing?” He motioned at the picture he’d had printed from Peyton’s phone. “Do you want me to try to figure out who our bearded friend is?”
“Yeah, see if the rest of your team can get on it too. What’s happening with the break-in on Brooks’ office?”
“I’m dead in the water. Without surveillance footage or fingerprints, we’ve got nothing to go on.”
“Now that the case is back in Vegas, we don’t really have jurisdiction over it either.”
Radar dropped his foot to the ground and leaned forward. “You’re right about that too.”
“What about the security guard, Mike Somethingorother?”
“Edwards?” Radar rose to his feet. “Until he does something else that gives me probable cause, I can’t dig much deeper on him.”
Rosa nodded, thinking about both cases. This is what she found most frustrating about her job, the lack of information.
“Let me know if there’s anything else you want me to do about Joe Miller,” Radar said.
“I will,” she responded and watched him walk from the room, then she reached for her d
esk phone and pushed the button for Darren.
“Darren?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Where are we on the warrant for the rental car from SFO?”
“I’ll call over to the judge’s office and see. I haven’t heard anything.”
“Thanks. Can you also get me the Chief Inspector for the DEA on the phone?”
“On it.”
Rosa picked up the picture of the bearded man. He didn’t look familiar, although the bushy beard and eyebrows made it hard to distinguish individual characteristics. It was even difficult to tell his race or ethnicity.
Her phone rang and she picked it up. “I have Chief Inspector Hanson on the line,” said Darren.
Rosa was a little surprised. She hadn’t expected to get him on the first try. Maybe an assistant, but not the chief inspector himself. “Thank you. Chief Inspector, this is SAC Rosa Alvarez from the San Francisco FBI branch.”
“SAC Alvarez, what can I do for you?” said the man’s deep voice.
“I’m not sure if you know, but I worked for you a couple years ago.”
“I remember your record well. You were an asset to our organization.”
“Thank you. Actually, I’m calling about my ex-partner, Joseph Miller. His wife Celeste came to see me a few days ago and she told me Joe hasn’t contacted her in a week, which is unusual. When we were working a case, he always made time to contact his wife at least once a day.”
The chief inspector didn’t immediately answer.
“Chief?”
“SAC Alvarez, have you heard from Joe Miller yourself?”
“No, that’s why I’m contacting you. Yesterday, two of my agents went to escort Celeste to the airport. She was being followed by a man. When my senior agent went to confront him, the man disappeared into the crowd.”
Again silence.
Rosa waited, tapping the pencil on her blotter some more. “Chief?”
“SAC Alvarez, if Joe Miller contacts you, I want you to call my office directly. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir, but…”
“Thank you. I appreciate your attention to this matter.”
“Chief, what’s going on? Is Joe Miller missing?”
“I can’t divulge that information, SAC Alvarez.”
“Can you tell me if he’s on a case?”
Silence.
Rosa tapped her pencil, feeling her stomach knot. He wasn’t going to give her any information. Not that she’d expected much, but his lack of information increased her suspicion that something was wrong.
“He is on a case,” he said finally.
“In Mexico?”
“I cannot divulge that information, SAC Alvarez, just please, contact my office if he should contact you.”
“What about the man following his wife, Celeste? Do you have any idea who that might be?”
“I have to go, SAC Alvarez.”
“Please, Chief, are Celeste Miller and her children in danger?”
“If you hear from Agent Miller, please contact us immediately.”
“Chief Hanson…” she started, but she heard the phone disconnect. Slumping back in her chair, she threw the pencil on her desk. What the hell was going on? What sort of case was Miller working?
She reached for her cell phone and pulled up his contact, then she pressed the dial button. The call didn’t even ring through, going immediately to voicemail. She listened to his voice and felt another twist in her gut.
“This is Joe Miller, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
“What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Joe?” she whispered, but she disconnected the call.
* * *
Marco crutched into the precinct after his physical therapy appointment. He was glad to be driving again, but he missed having Peyton waiting for him when he came out. The only good thing about physical therapy was it had replaced his Monday and Friday meetings with Dr. Ferguson, the psychologist. As long as he went to the group meetings on Thursday, he didn’t have to have private counseling sessions anymore, which was good because Dr. Ferguson didn’t approve of his living arrangement. He felt Marco and Peyton weren’t good for each other – they were co-dependent. Marco hated psychobabble and so he gave Ferguson’s ideas only a passing consideration.
As far as he was concerned, the best thing in his life right now was Peyton.
Tag pulled open the precinct door for him. Waiting on the other side of the counter was her partner, Drew Holmes.
“We got the warrant to confiscate the watch from the pawn shop,” Tag told him. “We’re on our way out there right now.”
“Good. Look around for any other signs.”
“Like what?” asked Tag.
“I don’t know, I just think it’s strange that there’s this Chechen or Russian connection here.” He glanced over at Lee. “Tell Stan I want to see him.”
“On it,” said Lee, picking up the phone.
“When are we gonna confront the mayor, Captain?” asked Holmes, moving to the half-door and pulling it open for him.
Marco crutched through. “I gotta have more, Drew. You know what a slippery eel Harlan Osborn is.”
“Do I ever.”
“Then we need more than what I got from the reporter. I need proof that Osborn was Murphy’s lover.”
“What if we can find some pictures of them together?” asked Tag. “Stan got Murphy’s computer up and running. What if he can find some photos or something?”
“That might be worth looking into. Good thinking.”
Tag gave him a nod, then she and Holmes went out the door. Marco crutched to his office.
“Stan’s on his way up, Captain.”
“Send him in when he gets here.”
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“I’ll get it for myself in a bit.”
“I don’t mind. Really.”
Marco looked over at the huge assistant. For a man of such size and physical presence, Lee was an easy-going guy. In fact, Marco hadn’t see him annoyed or angry once since he took over Carly’s position.
“Coffee would be great,” Marco said, smiling. “Are Cho and Simons in yet?”
“They came in just a few minutes ago. They were back at the high school, trying to locate Jamaad Jones’ friends.”
“Can you tell them to come up as well?”
“Sure,” he said, picking up the receiver again.
Marco crutched into his office and settled himself in his chair. Stan Neumann appeared a moment later, wearing his typical converse sneakers and a t-shirt that said Nerd? I prefer the term intellectual badass. Marco gave him a smile.
“How was your weekend, Stan?”
Stan sank into one of the chairs. “Good. There was a Marvel convention at the Cow Palace. I got a first edition Spider-Man in a frame.”
Marco frowned. “A first edition Spider-Man what? Action figure?” Stan had a number of action figures in mint condition and their original packaging in his office.
“No.” Stan laughed, the sound condescending, although Marco knew he didn’t mean for it to be. “Comic book.”
“Oh, cool.” He frowned again. “Wait. How do you read it if it’s framed?”
Stan’s eyes widened behind his coke-bottle glasses. “You don’t read it, Captain. You don’t dare touch it. That would ruin it.”
“Right. Right,” Marco said…twice, but he didn’t understand the world Stan inhabited.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah, Lowell Murphy’s computer? You were able to get into his chatroom history, right?”
“Right.”
“What about photos?”
“The hard-drive was pretty messed up. It was almost impossible to get anything off it.”
“What about the cloud or something? Could he store pictures in the cloud?”
Stan considered that for a moment. “I’d have to figure out his password, but it might be the same one he used for his online profile. What are you
looking for?”
“Proof that he was dating the mayor.”
Stan shifted uncomfortably. “Okay. I’ll look for cloud storage or anything like that.”
“I know you don’t like snooping through people’s private lives.”
“But it’s necessary. I know, Captain. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find something.”
“Thanks, Stan.”
Stan rose and left the room, sidestepping to avoid Lee as he brought Marco a cup of coffee. “Anything else, Captain?” Lee asked.
“Is Danté Price in yet?”
“I believe so.”
“Would you ask him to get me a report about what he discovered when he canvassed Jamaad Jones’ neighborhood? I want it in writing.”
“I’ll let him know.” Lee left the room.
Marco thought about the two cases. The boy’s murder should be easy to solve, but he knew how street murders went. Someone saw something, but was afraid to come forward. He turned on his computer and pulled up his email. Abe had told him yesterday he’d have Jamaad Jones’ autopsy this morning. Sure enough, Abe’s email was at the top of his list.
He clicked on it and opened the document. Jamaad had been shot through the left temple. Abe estimated that death was instantaneous and based on the lack of injuries anywhere else on his body, he figured Jamaad hadn’t seen it coming. There was nothing to indicate he tried to duck or block the shot. One minute he’d been walking down the street, the next he was dead.
Marco closed the file and stared at his desk blotter. A world where 17 year olds were murdered in the street wasn’t one he wanted to inhabit. What the hell was wrong with people? Who decided that they had the right to take another’s life?
He picked up his coffee and sipped it. He had two murders to solve, two young men, very different in every way, but both ripped from life way too soon. Neither should have died, both should have lived long lives, surrounded by family and friends.
Cho and Simons appeared in his doorway. “You wanted to see us, Captain?”
“Where are we on the Jamaad Jones’ murder?”
Simons sank into a chair, dark circles under his eyes. For the first time, Marco noticed the grey at his temples. “He was just your everyday kid. High school student. Lived with his mother and father, his grandmother and younger brother. Pulled B’s and C’s, never suspended.”
Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5) Page 14