by Tara Brown
“It’s Agent Spears, 549621, go for code.”
The phone makes a dial tone just before a man picks up—not just any man, the vice president of the country. “Agent Spears?” he asks softly.
“Mr. Vice President, this is Agent Jane Spears. My partner, Rory Guthrie, is the perp on the Granger Mountain homicides. I don’t know how, but he has just gone rogue on me, admitting to it all. I have sent the recording I made as he spoke in the car.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The man loses the composure he has maintained through previous crises. Ones I would have lost mine in. The video starts playing. Rory confessing to it all fills the background as the vice president’s breath increases. “This is a situation, Spears. He’s a fully trained op.”
“Yes, sir. He’s gone black. He’s running across Queen Anne Avenue in Seattle, heading east toward the Lake Union houses.” I pause. “He’s wearing a black jacket and dark-blue jeans. I can’t get to him from here. You have to send out cars.”
“Mother of God.”
“Sir, I have everything to take him down, but I need you to send a guard to the house, the townhouse we are watching. There is already one car on-scene, but I suspect the police squad car is full of dead cops. He ran past them without even batting an eyelash. I suspect there are dead people in the house also. I will need as much backup as possible to finish this safely.”
“I will dispatch as many as I can. You get on the local radios and tell the boys in blue what’s what. They are our best chance right now to mobilize. Seattle has SWAT. I’ll take care of that.” He sighs into the phone. “Get your ass back to that townhouse and find me some goddamned answers, agent!” He hangs up the phone, and I watch as Rory becomes a small black dot and then is gone.
I want to chase him. My instincts tell me to chase him. But something whispers to me that he is setting me up. And he knows me nearly as well as Angie and Dash do.
“They’re dead, Jane. Both—dead.” Dash catches up to me, his voice wavering from the exertion of running. When I look back I wince; his nose is clearly broken. He points. “You know how, right?”
I nod and walk over, lifting my hands to his cheeks. Hot tears stream from my eyes as I line up my thumbs along his nose and press my fingers into his cheeks. “One, two—” I shove his nose before saying three to trick him into relaxing. The bones snap back into place, and blood instantly starts gushing. He grunts like he wants to scream but keeps it together for me. He lifts his shirt to catch the blood, but his eyes wander to the road. “Where is he? How the hell did this happen?”
“Gone. Not sure.” My voice cracks. “What will Angie say?” I shake my head. She is as dear to me as family.
“I believe I would die inside if I found out it was you who was responsible for so much horror.”
I nod, hating where this will take our team at work. Hating that one of ours has betrayed us. But I don’t have time to worry about it. My body reacts, as it has been taught to. Tears stream down my cheeks as I sniffle and drag my bleeding fiancé back to the townhouse. Another squad car is there already.
“Stop!” One officer has his gun out already as the other is clearing the street and calling for more backup.
“I’m Agent Spears. I’m going for my badge. I am unarmed.” I lift my badge slowly to show the trembling man. He takes it, looking it over many times before putting his gun away. I nod at his radio. “May I?”
He nods. His eyes are filled with tears for his brothers on the force.
I click the radio on. “My name is Agent Jane Spears. You will not know who I am. I work intel. That is all you need to know. Two of your own have been shot in the Queen Anne area.” I point back toward the park for the benefit of the men next to me. “The man you are chasing, the man who killed your friends here today and many others, is Irish, ex–Irish Intelligence. He’s CIA trained, American military trained, and works with the UN for the FBI and Secret Service. His name is Rory Guthrie. His file is being faxed and e-mailed to every one of the police departments in the city and outskirts. It will be limited viewing, but you will have what you need. You will be supported by my unit, and you will assist us so that we can assist you. We want you to have your retribution, but we need to be smart about it. No more loss of life. This is one of ours who has done this; we want our retribution as well, but no vigilante efforts. We need teamwork. Your chiefs are being briefed as we speak. Ror—the killer has gone toward the Lake Union area. He’s a dark-haired male in his midthirties with an olive complexion, dark-blue eyes, and an Irish accent, though he can speak without it. He was last seen wearing a dark jacket and dark-blue jeans. He is six foot two, two hundred and twenty pounds. SWAT is being called in. If you see him he should be considered armed and dangerous; he’s a Caution Victor.” I click the radio off, passing it back to the man, who is visibly shaken but is ready to do his job. “Thank you.”
He steps back, and I can tell he’s not sure what to do, so I tell him. “Please help my fiancé find some bandages.” I hold a hand out to Dash, who looks shell-shocked. I dial Angie’s number and start toward the house, stopping by the police car to ensure both men are dead—but no visible injuries are present. The air around us outside smells fine, but I have a bad feeling. Rory is smart and creative.
I wave my hand. “Don’t go near the car. There could be gas inside, or poison.” The three police who are near the car step back. “Call for hazmat suits and people to test the air.”
One guy instantly talks on his radio as Angie answers the phone.
“Ya want to tell me why three FBI agents just showed up at the apartment and started taking all our stuff?”
I don’t have a filter, especially not when I get to this place. “Rory is the one.”
“What? What in the bloody—” She pauses before I can hear the change. “Oh God, of course he is, isn’t he? What the bloody hell else would he be doing with a girl like me? He’s been using me all along, hasn’t he?”
I hate him. “You need to go somewhere safe. Let the FBI take you into custody to a lab. Start thinking about how it is him and how we missed things. All kinds of things.”
“The bed, the bed frame with the cuts in the railings . . .” Her voice trails off. “I have to go.” She hangs up.
We both have the same journey; we must backtrack our brains and every file and find where he’s been and what he’s used against us. Against our work.
I take the steps to the townhouse slowly, peering in the windows as I approach. There’s no one here, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t booby-trapped it for me. I glance at the house next door, where a small woman with white hair looks out her window, scrutinizing us and what we are doing.
I glance back at Dash and the police. “I’ll get this lady. Evacuate the block until we know what’s in that car and this townhouse. Think we need a bomb squad.”
The police officer talking on the radio doesn’t even question anything I say, he just calls it in.
Dash looks like he might argue, but he doesn’t. He nods, blotting his face and turning to go to the other homes along the street. I go down the stairs and walk over to the lady’s house, smiling at her and flashing my badge. She opens the door when I get to it. I nod. “My name is Jane. I need to ask you some questions. Do you have a backyard we can talk in?”
“It’s very cold.” Her voice is frail and squeaky; I like it.
“I know, but we need to be away from the front of the house.”
She pulls a sweater from the old wooden stand at the front door. “Okay, Jane. My name is Esther.” She shrugs it on and shuffles through the house.
When we get to the back door she opens it and walks to the brown grass. “It’s so cold it feels like it might snow. It is Christmas next week, so that’s likely, I suppose. Sometimes we get lucky with a few flakes at Christmas.”
“Christmas and snow go hand in hand.” I smile with awkwardness, pulling my phone from my pocket. “There is a man I am looking for.” I lift the phone and scroll t
hrough the pictures until I find the one I am looking for. I point it at her.
She leans in. “Derek, the nephew of old Richard next door. He’s a sweet boy.”
I swallow hard. “I need to know everything you know about Derek.”
She gives me a skeptical look from behind her hazel eyes and drawn-on eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because he’s in danger. I think he’s in trouble, and I need to help him. He’s my partner, and someone has framed him for something terrible.”
Her jaw drops. “He knew it was coming. He said it was only a matter of time before they came looking for him. He said he’d had some bad dealings with the wrong people. Boys his age make bad choices, though, ya know?”
I nod, completely confused as to whether she knew Rory/Derek or not.
“He was the executor of the will for old Richard, or Dick, as I always called him. Derek was his executor. Poor boy, those greedy kids of Dick’s made him sign the one daughter out because she was adopted, so the house sits empty. It’s very bad for the neighborhood, you know? That’s how I met Derek; I wanted to know what was being done about the empty house. No one was mowing the lawn. It was terrible.”
Simple things work her up, but she’s earned that right. She looks a hundred if she’s a day. I can’t imagine how old Dick was if she’s calling him old.
“So Derek said that he was gonna make sure it was taken care of. That boy was good to his word. He kept the lawn nice and made sure the lights were automatic so no one got any funny ideas. He’s a very good boy.”
If she only knew.
“He came over whenever he could and let me know what was happening. Those greedy kids of Dick’s are in talks now to divide the whole thing—the cabins and house here in the city and properties in Canada.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Canada?”
“Vancouver—Vancouver something. It will come to me.”
“Do you know when the last time was he came to this house here?”
“Yesterday. He came by and told me he was having these problems. Said it was just a matter of time before things got bad for him, but that he would still make sure someone came and took care of the house. He told me not to go inside, no matter what. Something about a funny gas leak he was having someone look at next week.”
I sigh. “What can you tell me about Dick?”
“Died in a car accident on his way up to Granger Mountain. He went there every weekend. Was an avid hiker and backcountry skier, I guess. And there’s a bit of a backcountry lodge up there.”
“Did his kids ski?”
She shakes her head. “Those kids hated their father, never wanted anything to do with him. Hated the mother before she died too. Always going away to college and living as far as they could. Selfish brats. When people get old they need some extra help, ya know?”
I offer her a warm smile. “I am going to get one of the police officers out front to take you to the hotel we are setting up for all the nice people here on the street. We are going to check that gas leak now.”
“A hotel?” She looks like she might argue.
I walk her to the back gate, through to the alley. “The gas leak might be bad inside. We need to clean it up. The whole block is being evacuated.”
“Oh, all right then.”
“Is there anyone else inside?”
“No. Just me.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I will need my purse, though. It’s on the table at the front door. Would you be a dear and lock up when you grab it? The back door locks on its own.”
I wince and turn, running back to the house. I snag her purse, lock her door, and run it out to the back. Quickly, before I reach her, I call Dash’s cell. “Send a car to the back alley here. A lady needs a ride to the hotel where the people are being evacuated to.”
“Okay, are you all right?”
“Yup.” I hang up so I don’t have to talk in front of her. I am far from okay. I have a terrible feeling about how Old Dick lived and died. The car is there within seconds. “Thank you, Esther, for talking to me.”
“It’s my pleasure, Jane. You take care, and when you find dear Derek, you let him know I said good luck.” She climbs into the car and waves as they drive her away. I jog around the block, hurrying back to the front of the house where the cordoned-off area is.
Men in hazmat suits begin their slow walk to the car. They have tools to test the air quality, and mirrors to check the underside of the vehicle for explosives.
We all back up even more. Dash finds me in the crowd and wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head gingerly. “I just want this to be over.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I mutter.
“Me either. I knew he was weird, but not like that. No way was he like that.”
I nod, pulling my cell phone out and making another call. “I need to speak to the three kids who are fighting over the will over here at this house; guy’s name is Richard. Rory is the executor of the will. Somehow he used the alias Derek and became the old man’s nephew. How did we not notice Derek was the name of the nephew?”
The voice on the other side is an analyst named Antoine, a member of my team back home. “Lady Jane, what’re the chances this is a mess-up and my best buddy isn’t a homicidal pervert?”
“Don’t be naive. Not everyone we love is a good person. Most are shit.”
He chuckles into the phone. “I do adore you, Jane!” It’s not affectionate. It’s bitter, and he’s basically using my own words to call me shit. “The son and daughter live at the same house. Address is just sent to your cell, but no one has seen hide nor hair of them for about a month. The adopted daughter lives out of town, close to a place called Tanner. Also sent that address; anything else?”
“Tanner? Stay close to the phone. This shit is unraveling faster than I can keep up, and I am down one partner.”
“Yes, the one who always called in with funny jokes and had donuts couriered over to me.”
“This is serious.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” He hangs up as I glance at Dash. “The adopted daughter lives just outside of the town where Ashley Potter was from.”
“Where was that again?”
“Tanner. You want me to take you to a hotel?”
It’s obvious Dash doesn’t know how to take this all in. He’s slowly swelling from Rory’s punches and looking more miserable by the second. He shakes his head. “No, that’s okay.”
I cup his face as the area we are in fills with onlookers. In my peripheral vision I catch a glimpse of the hazmat guys circling around the back of the car. “I love you, Dash. And I am so glad you came along when you did. I honestly didn’t know what to say or do when I figured it out. I never would have suspected Rory. I was having a heart attack. You saved me.”
He gets a big cheesy grin, but it doesn’t last long. “Holy shit!” He grabs me and runs, dragging me along.
I don’t have a chance to look back and see what it is. I’m thrown to the ground as the sound of a large explosion fills the air. From the ground I can see people rolling and falling, tripping and shoving as they scream with their mouths open wide. My ears ring so I can’t hear the sounds well, but from what I can see all the people within two blocks are on the ground, in obvious pain and shock.
Around us buildings shake, and windows break and drop onto the sidewalk.
When I look back at the source of our situation, I can tell the car was clearly the bomb.
Thankfully we are all far enough away that no one seems to be in grave condition, but there’s something about the white smoke billowing from the trunk that makes my skin crawl. “We need to keep running.” I nod at the smoke filling the air.
Dash barely hears me in the screaming around us. I climb off him, knowing his instinct is going to be to help, and grab his hand. Without giving it another thought, I pull him to a safe distance, watching as the smoke seems to thicken, like a chemical reaction and not smoke from a bomb. I have a terrible feeling
about what it might be.
I drag Dash a little farther as the police try to move everyone even farther back. There are no horribly wounded people because we cordoned off a large area, but everyone is shaken up. Car alarms up and down the block are filling the air with even more noise than the screaming people. But I ignore it all and continue to push Dash back. “That’s possibly anhydrous ammonia.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “What? Why—?” He shakes his head slowly. “Never mind. I suppose I know why.”
I nod, gripping his hand and attempting to drag him away from it all, as I send Antoine a text telling him to call the City of Seattle about the cloud of gas that could kill if it is inhaled. He makes a weird face that suggests he might be throwing up.
“You aren’t going to warn these people about the danger?” Dash asks, still holding me in one spot.
I shake my head. “We are running short on time. You think this is the only thing he has planned? He could be, and probably is, doing something far worse, and this is just a diversion.”
“You have to think of the people. I legally have to think of the people. I’m a doctor.”
“Fine, let’s incite a little panic.” I sigh and walk back toward it all, waving my hands and screaming like a maniac about the danger in front of us as everyone runs screaming away from it.
A policeman comes rushing over. “What is it?”
“Poisonous gas, likely the kind you drop dead from the moment you breathe it in. We need to evac the area and keep everyone away from this block. Empty the houses, all of it.”
His eyes widen. “Jesus H. Christ, what in the hell?”
“He was a maniacal bastard, what can I say?” I turn and pull Dash along, hailing a cab when we get back to the main road. “Happy?”
He nods, but he doesn’t look happy.
19. Along came a spider
The house makes me tingle, but I make myself go inside it. I force the steps I don’t want to take. Two FBI agents are with me. One is named Henrico, and the other is Stanley. They both look like they might toss up their lunches onto the floor at any moment. Neither handled the cells well.