Storm's Cage

by Mary Stone

  “Yeah.” As Joseph pulled out his own card, his eyes were distant, almost like he’d been awoken from a trance. “That’s all I had too. Ms. Truesdell, thank you very much for your time.”

  Wendy’s gaze shifted between Amelia and Joseph. “Yeah, you’re welcome. I hope this helps you lock that prick up in a cage for the rest of his life.”

  Me and you both.

  Amelia kept the thought to herself and slid her card along the breakfast bar. “We’ll do our best. If you think of anything else, even if it seems like it might be trivial, please, give one of us a call. The same goes for Mr. Ulmer or one of his CPD friends contacting you. We have no reason to think that either you or your daughter are at risk, but if that changes, we’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

  “Okay. I will.” Wendy squared her jaw. “Good luck, Agents.”

  After a handshake and a couple polite goodbyes, Amelia and Joseph let themselves back out into the sunlight.

  As Amelia took her spot in the passenger seat, she waited for Joseph to close his door before she spoke. “How much do you want to bet that the Leónes have some kind of blackmail on our pal Russel?”

  Shaking his head, Joseph snorted. “That’s a sucker’s bet. Sure seems like the Leónes have a thing for pedophiles, though. First Dalessio, now this CO.”

  “Yeah, it’s really starting to look like that.” The engine hummed to life, and Amelia fastened her seat belt. “We were looking for a CO who’d either been paid off or blackmailed, but from the sounds of it, Russel could’ve been both.”

  Joseph’s pale blue eyes met hers. “But both are circumstantial, at least so far.”

  Why was he arguing? Circumstantial or not, they had something to work with. That should have him champing at the bit. Amelia groaned with frustration. “I know, but at least now we have a name to follow up on as a prime subject.”

  Shifting the car into gear, Joseph shrugged. “True. We didn’t have either of those when we interviewed Waylon yesterday.”

  Amelia tapped an index finger against her bottom lip. Was he being dense on purpose, or did he really not feel this was a solid lead to follow up on? “So…are we headed to MCC? We might be able to get this guy to say something useful now that we know who the CO is that helped him.”

  A faint smirk flitted across Joseph’s face. “Only one way to find out.”

  Finally, he seemed to be catching on. But the smirk she could do without seeing. Amelia turned her gaze outside of the car, nodded absently as she fixated on the two names Wendy had given them. The names of Russel’s cop friends.

  Sure, Ian was a common name, and Amelia was sure there were plenty of Ians among the ranks of the Chicago Police Department. Detectives, beat cops, sergeants, not to mention all the different sub-branches of each department.

  In a city the size of Chicago, the odds that Russel Ulmer just happened to be friends with Ian Strausbaugh were astronomical.

  But the odds that one Leóne affiliate was friends with another Leóne affiliate were much better.

  If Ian was on the Leónes’ payroll, then why would the family have decided to kill him just for a chance to bring down a D’Amato lieutenant from a years-old spat? As a tenured homicide detective, Ian would have been a valuable asset.

  Had Ian turned on them? Had he overstepped his bounds with the notorious crime family?

  Or was Ian like Carlo—a loose end?

  18

  As Joseph strode to the end of a short hall just off the lobby of MCC Chicago, he cast one last glance over his shoulder before he shoved open the door to the men’s room. Fortunately for him, a federal prison wasn’t bustling with visitors at eleven on a weekday morning.

  After he knelt for a cursory check of the three stalls, he made his way down the line and kicked open the door of each for good measure. Satisfied he was alone, he reached into the pocket of his black slacks to retrieve a slim flip phone.

  For the duration of the half-hour drive to downtown Chicago, Joseph had contemplated what he should do about Russel Ulmer. He hoped the Leóne man who’d given Ulmer the order to take out Carlo Enrico had covered his tracks, but lately, the Leónes hadn’t done a great job at keeping themselves out of the spotlight.

  Joseph couldn’t say for sure how valuable an asset Ulmer had become, but with all the information Amelia had uncovered, the CO would soon be a liability.

  As Brian Kolthoff’s words echoed through his head, he knew what had to be done.

  If Amelia or the Bureau caught up to Russel, the sick bastard would most likely roll over in exchange for leniency. The testimony of a peripheral associate like Ulmer might not take the FBI far into the family’s operation, but it would certainly put the spotlight back on the Leónes.

  With a single phone call from Joseph, the Leónes could snatch Russel out from under the FBI’s nose and stash him underground—figuratively, but maybe literally. Once the pressure for the Bureau to find him died down, Ulmer could buy himself a new identity and disappear.

  But Joseph knew once Russel found a new city to call home, he’d find a new ten-year-old girl to rape. A new family to rip apart. A new life to ruin.

  Just like a man named Sawyer Kastner had done to Joseph’s family twenty-five years earlier.

  This was the price of Joseph’s loyalty to Stan Young. Letting men like Russel Ulmer go free, so they could find new victims.

  Gritting his teeth, Joseph hovered his thumb over the green key that would dial the number of a Leóne capo, Joe Dalessio. Alton Dalessio’s cousin.

  He didn’t have a choice. He had to contact the Leónes, but he’d make sure he got a word in with Russel Ulmer before Joe sent him on his merry way.

  Before his thoughts could take off back to the realm of uncertainty, Joseph pressed a button and raised the phone to his ear.

  Joe’s gravelly voice came to life over the line after the second ring. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t have much time, so listen up.”

  Joseph swore he could almost hear the creak of an office chair and a hand slamming down on a wooden desk.

  “What do you have for me?” Joe’s words came out on the back of a tense breath.

  Joseph swallowed the bitterness in his throat and forced the words past his lips. “There’s a good chance that one of your CO contacts at MCC Chicago is about to be taken in by the FBI. The guy who handled Enrico, Russel Ulmer. There’s no hard evidence to tie him to the murder yet, but I suggest you go find him before there is. He isn’t scheduled to work today, so it shouldn’t be hard to get to him before the cops do.”

  “Shit,” Joe spat. “Okay. I’ll handle it.”

  “One more thing.” Joseph clenched his free hand into a fist. “When you’ve got him somewhere safe, call me. I need to speak with him.”

  “You understand this is not how we handle things, right?” Joe’s tone soured. “We have our own way of managing family affairs.”

  “Quid pro quo. I think that deserves a little appreciation, don’t you?” Joseph shouldn’t have to spell out the obvious, but as Joe had already been told that playing nice was in The Shark’s, and by extension Stan Young’s, best interest, he gritted his teeth and kept his tone congenial.

  Joe groaned through the phone. “Fine. If I must.”

  “Good. ‘Til then.”

  Snapping the phone closed, Joseph glared at the nearest stall as if the door was responsible for the turmoil in his mind. He wasn’t sure how long he held the pose, and if he hadn’t heard the creak of hinges, he wasn’t sure how long he would have stayed there. Jerking himself from the reverie, he turned to face the newly arrived corrections officer.

  With a nod of acknowledgment, Joseph went through the motions to wash his hands before he let himself out into the hall.

  If Amelia wanted to get to Russel before the Leónes, she would have to act fast.

  Hearing the bathroom door open, Amelia stuffed her phone in the side pocket of her purse and stood.

  Joseph emerged with an expression
on his face that she could only describe as defeat.

  What the hell had he been doing in there?

  Though her ever-present sense of curiosity insisted she ask him about the obvious strain in his expression, she smacked the idea aside as soon as it formed. They were in the lobby of a federal prison, about to interview a man who’d murdered a key witness. Not the time. Not the place for personal business. Even if they’d been back in the relative comfort of the FBI office, she had no desire to strike up any sort of personal conversation with Joseph Larson.

  Maybe he lost all his progress in Candy Crush. She almost snorted at the thought but bit her tongue to ward off the moment of amusement.

  By the time Joseph had closed the distance between them, whatever moment of hardship he’d faced had all but vanished.

  Amelia ignored the slew of sarcastic Candy Crush comments that flitted through her head. “Ready?” She shouldered her purse and waved a hand toward the corrections officer waiting to escort them.

  Joseph cleared his throat. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  They followed the CO through a security checkpoint and handed over their service weapons before being led to an interview room. Fortunately, they didn’t have to travel to the third floor like Amelia and Zane had done for their meeting with Carlo.

  As a harsh buzz sounded out overhead, the guard pulled open a heavy metal door and waited for Amelia and Joseph to step into the cramped space.

  The CO’s dark eyes flicked from Amelia to Joseph. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  Joseph pointed to a series of heavily tinted panes of glass across the hall. “Monitor us from there. My partner and I can handle ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry, Agent, but—”

  Joseph jabbed his finger at the door beside the dark windows. “No, you don’t have to wait outside the door. This is a Federal investigation with sensitive information that, if it was overheard, could compromise the integrity of this case.” His tone was so harsh, Amelia wondered why he didn’t just tell the guard that the FBI didn’t trust corrections officers to keep their mouths closed.

  As the CO opened his mouth, Joseph shot him a withering stare. The guard’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay. We’ll be watching through the glass across the hall. If you have any issues, just signal.”

  Amelia jumped in before Joseph uttered an irritable reply. “Thank you. We appreciate your help.”

  With a curt nod, the guard stepped out and pushed the door closed.

  Biting her tongue to avoid saying something to make the situation that much more tense, Amelia turned to face the man whose wrists were shackled to a stainless-steel table. Solid concrete comprised two walls, and iron bars and chain link covered a four-foot-tall opening in the two others.

  A pair of wary gray eyes followed each of Joseph’s movements as he pulled out a metal chair, seating himself directly opposite Waylon Erbach. The bushy, rust-colored beard from the inmate’s mugshot had been shaved down to stubble, and shadows darkened his gaunt cheeks.

  Rather than take a spot at Joseph’s side, Amelia crossed her arms and leaned against the cool cement. “Nice to see you again, Waylon. How’s your week been so far?”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you people want? I already told you I don’t know nothin’ about that guy who got killed here last week. Never even met the fella.”

  Rubbing the side of his clean-shaven face, Joseph leaned back in his chair. “You sure about that? I mean, I don’t doubt that you’d never met him before, but are you sure about the rest of it? You don’t know anything about it?”

  Amelia painted a contemplative expression on her face and tilted her head. “Come on, Waylon. We already know who let you through that supply room so you could kill Carlo Enrico.”

  For a split-second, his eyes widened. He sat stiffly in his seat, as if frozen. To his credit, he rebounded from the shock quickly, but the moment of panic validated their days of tedious work. She’d been confident in their theory, and his body language proved they were on the right track.

  Metal clattered as Erbach scooted forward in his seat and fisted his hands on top of the table. “I got no idea what you’re on about, lady. I wasn’t nowhere near that hallway when that guy got killed. I was—”

  Joseph cut him off with an upraised hand. “In your cell. Yeah, I know. And I also know that’s bullshit. See, after our last little chat, my partner and I went back and looked through the security cameras from that day. We didn’t see you anywhere near your cell block. Not until a guard escorted you there, from the showers, after the lockdown started.”

  Erbach’s knuckles turned white from the pressure of his clenched fists. “So? I took a shower. I don’t like to stink.”

  “Or…” Joseph mimed proper handwashing technique, “you had to do a little extra scrubbing. I saw that hallway. Carlo Enrico was a bleeder. In fact, that’s how he died. Poor bastard’s blood pressure bottomed out. He went into shock. Then again, he was stabbed quite a few times. Pretty sloppy, if you ask me. A good assassin wouldn’t need to do so much work. Or need to freshen up after.”

  The inmate’s eyes shifted between the two of them. “What? A guy can’t take a shower without being suspicious these days? I’m telling you, whatever you’re seeing that makes you think I did this thing, that I murdered that fella, someone’s setting me up.”

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “Okay, Waylon. Here’s the thing. I’m going to just cut right down to it, because I’m about sick and tired of you wasting my damn time. We know who hired you to kill Carlo Enrico. We’ve got evidence that ties him to the murder, and what we’re doing right now is more or less a courtesy to you. See, we could have just gone to the CO first.”

  Another flash of panic crossed Erbach’s face, but this time he wasn’t as quick to conceal the obvious worry.

  She lifted an index finger as she pinned him with a hard stare. “But we’re here talking to you instead…as a courtesy. Because when we go knock on that CO’s door after this and slap the cuffs on his wrist, what do you think is the first thing he’s going to do?” She leveled the finger at Erbach. “He’s going to point to you. He’s going to sell you out.”

  “No. That’s not…” Erbach shook his head, looking like a shaggy dog ridding itself of water. “No, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Joseph lifted an eyebrow at the twitchy man. “Are you sure about that? Because the way you’re reacting tells me you know exactly what my partner’s telling you.”

  Stepping away from the wall, Amelia held her arms out to her sides. “What’s going to make him stay loyal to you, huh? You weren’t the one paying him. It was the other way around. He’s going to sell you out like…” she snapped her fingers, “that. And you know what the hell of it is? It’ll work. He’ll plead down to something like manslaughter, and the U.S. Attorney will pin you with first-degree murder. While you sit in solitary confinement for all but fifteen minutes a day, you’ll be staring down lethal injection while he gets a slap on the wrist.”

  As Erbach’s wild eyes shifted back and forth between them, Joseph crossed his arms. “Is that the way you want this to play out? Do you want to take a bullet for a CO who’d rat you out in half a second if it meant he’d get to see the light of day again?”

  Opening and closing his mouth, Erbach shook his head vehemently. “I…I can’t. The others, they’ll kill me.”

  “No, they won’t.” Amelia stepped away from the wall, her heart picking up speed. They were close to getting him to break. She took the chair across from him, giving him her best concerned expression. “You tell us what happened, and we’ll make sure you stay in this room, unharmed, until the prosecutor gets here to take your statement in writing and send you into protective custody. After you testify, we’ll ship you off to serve your time on the other side of the country. New name and everything.”

  Wringing his hands, Erbach dropped his stare down to the table as the room descended into silence.

&nbs
p; “Get ahead of him.” Amelia rested her hands on the table, her palms up to show her openness to him. “Tell the truth.”

  The irony of the suggestion made her stomach turn. Here she was, encouraging an inmate to give an honest report of a crime he’d committed, all while she tried to play nice with Joseph so he wouldn’t tell the FBI about how she’d killed Alton Dalessio.

  She didn’t need this little dose of irony to realize that, under normal circumstances, she’d have told Joseph to piss off each time he’d touched her over the past week.

  But circumstances hadn’t been normal, and every day, she’d let him push the boundary a little more.

  Because he knew. And what he knew could send her to prison for the rest of her life, ruin her career, or both.

  Going to SAC Keaton to come clean had crossed her mind, but Amelia told herself that Joseph’s thinly veiled infatuation would pass. Eventually, he’d find a new woman to hold his interest, and they might be able to return to a normal working partnership. In the meantime, all she had to do was keep her cool.

  The task seemed easy enough, but her skin still crawled every time he got too close. If he decided to push his luck further, she wasn’t sure how she’d handle herself.

  Pissed that she’d let her fellow agent and his antics sidetrack her thinking, she focused on the wiry man on the other side of the table. “So? What’s it going to be? Are you going to let this CO play you, or will you turn the tables on him?”

  When Erbach’s gaze turned to Amelia and Joseph, a glimmer of ire had edged its way in beside the paranoia. Amelia didn’t have time to discern who’d inspired the anger before his head bobbed.

  “Okay, yeah. That guy can go to hell. Never liked that sumbitch anyway, you know? Only did it because he paid me, and he swore nobody would ever find out.” He snorted. “Not much, mind you. Guess he thought someone like me didn’t understand the value of things the way he did. Condescending prick.”

  Amelia didn’t need small talk. She needed answers. She met his eyes with an intense, no more bullshit glare. “We need a name, Waylon. For the official record.”