The Chase

by Lisa Harris

  “But you saw some kind of exchange?” Madison asked, pulling out her notebook.

  Thompson nodded. “I can’t tell you what was exchanged, but yes. They sat there about ten minutes, then a man walked in and sat down next to them. They gave him something—a small envelope—then he left. The couple sat there another few minutes before getting up, lighting a candle, and leaving.”

  “Did you see him give them anything?”

  “No, but I could have missed it.”

  “You said that they didn’t match exactly to the photos and descriptions,” Jonas said.

  “Height and build, yes, but her hair was reddish and shoulder length. And he didn’t have any facial hair like he did in the photo.”

  Madison jotted down some notes. “Anything else?”

  The officer paused for a moment. “I decided to get a closer look at them.”

  “And did you?”

  He nodded. “There are always things in the lost and found, so I grabbed a woman’s scarf. As they were leaving, I went up to them and asked her if she’d dropped it. She said no, but I could tell she was nervous.”

  “What about him?” Jonas asked.

  “He looked”—Thompson cocked his head—“I guess irritated is the best word to describe him. Let’s just say I’m pretty sure he didn’t come here to pray.”

  “Any tattoos?” Madison asked.

  “Yes. That was the other thing I noticed. He had one on his forearm and wrist that I was able to get a good look at. It was a compass surrounded by a forest.”

  Madison glanced at Jonas. “Then that was definitely them.”

  “Would you like to look at the security footage we have?” the officer asked.

  “Definitely.”

  They followed him toward the church offices. “What about the person they met with? Did you get a good look at him?” Madison asked.

  “Yeah. He was around six foot tall and thin. Brown, curly hair. I’ve never seen him before, but I’m hoping there’s some footage of him on the security cameras, because I want to ask one of our volunteers who works here full time if she knows who he is. Kim’s one of those people who knows everyone.”

  Madison nodded, hoping he was right, but it was possible none of them had a connection to the cathedral, and they’d only chosen this place as a safe drop.

  “I’ll get you started on the footage, then I’ll go and find Kim,” Thompson said, as he motioned them inside a small office where video equipment and screens were set up along the back wall.

  As soon as he had the footage cued up and had showed them how to use the equipment, Madison rolled a chair in front of the screen and started slowly going through the recording while Jonas leaned over her shoulder.

  The situation played out exactly like the security guard had told them. Cameras had caught the couple walking in the entrance of the church, then sitting down. Madison glanced at the time stamp and continued to scroll forward.

  “There”—she pointed at the screen—“here’s where their contact walks in.”

  “I’m convinced this has to do with getting new passports,” Jonas said, “but he doesn’t seem to be carrying anything.”

  She slowed down the footage, watching it frame by frame to ensure they didn’t miss anything. The contact slid an envelope from Jesse into his jacket pocket, then slipped away without a word, but Jonas was right. From this angle, it appeared that the contact never gave the couple anything.

  “Maybe they were simply making a payment in advance,” she said. “Which would make sense. It could easily take a few days to get new passports made.”

  For a price, you could get anything you wanted. Either a brand-new, forged passport, or a doctored stolen one. The right person could slip in a new photo and make a few subtle changes, giving the buyer the ability to invisibly slip through airports or across the border. And if the public didn’t catch on to their new aliases, Jesse and Nadia would become virtually invisible.

  Jesse and Nadia had just walked out of the line of sight in the camera footage when Thompson came back into the room.

  Madison paused the video. “Could you get a copy of this for us?”

  “Of course. I can put it on a thumb drive,” Thompson said. “And I just spoke with Kim, the woman I told you about. She’ll be here in a few minutes. Maybe she’ll recognize the second man.”

  Madison stood up so Thompson could have the computer back. She wanted to believe he was right, but she wasn’t going to count on it. They’d update the BOLO with Jesse and Nadia’s new appearances and get the footage to one of their techs to see if facial recognition software got them what they needed.

  “We’ll wait outside,” Jonas said, stepping out of the way.

  She followed Jonas into the hallway, then paused in front of a stained glass window for a moment before sitting down on a wooden bench next to Jonas.

  “How are you doing?” she asked. “I know you didn’t get much if any sleep last night. You have to be exhausted.”

  “I’ll be fine, though if I’m being honest, it feels a bit ironic being here. The last twenty-four hours have found me wrestling some with God. Maybe I’m still in shock. Maybe it’s because I still feel there are unresolved things between Felicia and me, and now it’s too late to settle them.” He laughed. “It sounds selfish when I say it out loud.”

  “Not at all.” She leaned forward and rested her forearms against her thighs. “I know I questioned God a lot when Luke died. Wondering why he didn’t intervene that day. I tried to convince God of all the reasons why he should have saved him, including the miraculous testimony I would have told the world. I understand. Death is hard.”

  “And it’s even harder when it’s senseless,” Jonas said.

  Over the years she’d learned how to better control her emotions when they were triggered, but talking about death and loss always revealed just how close to the surface they actually stayed. That same loss had taken her down a path she never would have volunteered to take, but it had also given her a strength she hadn’t expected.

  “I remember having a long conversation with my father a few weeks after Luke’s death about everything I was questioning,” she said. “I told him I didn’t know what God wanted from me.”

  “What was his response?” Jonas asked.

  “That I already knew what God wanted. It was more of a question of if I was willing to surrender and trust him.”

  “Your father clearly isn’t one to pull any punches.”

  “He was always good at making me look at an issue from a completely different angle. The bigger picture. Though I feel like it’s still something I’m just beginning to unravel and understand.”

  “It’s hard when it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I agree, but he also reminded me that God is okay with us struggling for answers. And in the end, he simply wants us to trust him through the journey, even when it doesn’t make sense.”

  Jonas put his arm around her shoulder. “I know you feel like you’re slowly losing your dad too. I’ve always enjoyed being around him. Wish I would have known him before he got sick.”

  “Me too.” She stared at the stained glass until it blurred, letting the ripples of emotion seep through the cracks of her heart. “He was and always will be a special man.”

  Footsteps on the tile pulled her back to the present. Officer Thompson stepped out of the security office just as a middle-aged woman with gray hair pulled back into a ponytail stopped in front of them.

  “Great timing, Kim,” Officer Thompson said. “Thank you for coming by.” He turned to the marshals. “Kim arranges tours of the church and has volunteered here longer than probably anyone.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, as Madison and Jonas both stood up. “Officer Thompson said you would like me to try and identify someone who visited the church today.”

  “Yes,” Madison said. “We appreciate your willingness to help.”

  “I printed off a couple freeze-frames while I was
copying the security footage,” Thompson said, handing them both to Kim.

  “The couple definitely doesn’t look familiar,” she said, holding up the black-and-white photo.

  “What about the third person?” Jonas asked. “The man.”

  Kim flipped to the second photo. “I’ve seen him, though I don’t know his name.” She tapped a finger against the image. “I remember him because we had to call and have his car towed away a few weeks ago when he parked in the staff parking lot. If you’ll give me just a minute, I’m sure we have a record of the incident on file.”

  “That would be great,” Madison said. “Thank you.”

  Thompson’s hand shook as he handed her the flash drive. “Here’s a copy of the footage. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yes, I just . . . I hate the thought of having fugitives in the sanctuary.” He paused for a moment. “I heard they’re wanted for a bank robbery and the shooting of a bank security guard.”

  “That’s right,” Jonas said.

  “All of this hits a little too close to home,” he said, shoving his hands inside his pockets. “I know enough about US Marshals to know they go after people with pretty serious raps. Except for a few incidences of vandalism, it normally stays pretty quiet here. I think having a uniformed officer helps people feel like this is a safe place, but knowing those two fugitives were here made me realize that something like a robbery and shooting can happen anywhere.” The officer was visibly shaken. “I’ve got a wife and two little girls at home.”

  Madison glanced at Jonas’s guarded expression but knew what he was thinking. Anywhere. Anytime. The unexpected was often harder than the anticipated.

  Kim emerged from an office with a paper in her hand. “All I can find is the complaint we filled out for the police. I still don’t know his name, but I do have the license plate number of the car we towed.” She handed them the paper. “Hopefully that will be enough.”

  Jonas and Madison thanked them both, then headed for the car. Madison texted the plate number to Michaels. By the time they got to the car, her phone was ringing.

  “His name is Ryan Kent,” Michaels said. “I’m sending you his last known address now.”

  TWENTY

  All of this hits a little too close to home.”

  The security guard’s words echoed in Jonas’s head as he drove toward Ryan Kent’s address. Thompson had reaffirmed what had been nagging at Jonas. This case had become far too personal.

  “What do we have on Kent?” he asked.

  Madison was scrolling through the information Michaels had sent them on her phone. “He’s been arrested a couple times, but all for petty crimes. Nothing violent. He does have an outstanding warrant for a class C misdemeanor for criminal trespassing.”

  “We might be able to use that as leverage to get him to talk,” Jonas said. “What about a job?”

  “Looks like he picks up day jobs at a local dock.”

  “And obviously delivers packages,” Jonas added.

  The address they’d been given for Kent was in a run-down housing complex. Half a dozen cars sat in the parking lot, several Jonas was certain would never run again. According to the information they had, the man had been living here for the past six months.

  “This guy certainly isn’t bringing in the cash,” Madison said as she looked around.

  “Maybe he’s a middleman. Some kind of courier,” Jonas said.

  They made their way to apartment seven on the ground floor of the two-story building. Music blasted from one of the apartments above them, while a couple argued in the doorway three doors down. Jonas stepped over a beer bottle and frowned. The entire outside of the building could use a coat of paint, and several of the windows were cracked. He couldn’t imagine what kind of work was needed on the inside.

  They stopped in front of Ryan Kent’s apartment, and Jonas pounded on the door. “Ryan Kent? Open the door. This is the police.”

  Madison moved in front of the window and looked through a gap in the curtains. “I see movement. Someone’s in there, and the TV’s on.”

  “We know you’re in there,” Jonas said, knocking again. “We can hear you.”

  The TV clicked off.

  “Ryan?” Jonas said.

  “Who is it?”

  “US Marshals. Open the door now.”

  A man in his early thirties, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, opened the door six inches, leaving the chain in place. “What do you want?”

  “I’m Deputy US Marshal Jonas Quinn and this is my partner, Deputy US Marshal Madison James. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

  “About what?”

  “We have video footage of you at the St. James Cathedral late this morning.”

  His brow furrowed. “Since when is going to church a crime?”

  “It’s not,” Madison said. “But it is when you’re delivering illegal goods to fugitives—”

  Ryan slammed the door shut, then opened it again, this time without the chain. “Get in here. Quickly.”

  They stepped inside, while he rushed to lock and chain the door behind them. Jonas glanced around the room that smelled like takeout, cigarettes, and beer. He guessed it hadn’t been cleaned for weeks. Dishes were piled up in the small sink, a can of pork and beans sat open next to a hot plate, and clothes lay strewn across the carpeted floor.

  “I wasn’t delivering illegal goods,” he said, keeping his voice low, though Jonas had no idea who he didn’t want to overhear their conversation.

  “Then why were you at St. James this morning?” Madison asked.

  “I’m a courier and was hired to pick something up from them.”

  “So you admit to being there this morning?” Madison asked.

  “I was, but . . .” He hesitated, clearly unsure of what he could say that might keep him out of trouble. “But I swear, it’s nothing illegal. Sometimes I deliver or pick up things for a friend. That’s it.”

  “What was in the envelope they gave you?”

  Ryan shrugged. “I have no idea. I got a hundred bucks to pick it up and deliver it to an address. No questions asked. No courier in the city knows the contents of what they are delivering. Or at least they’re not supposed to. Not even UPS or the post office.”

  Madison folded her arms across her chest and frowned. “You looked inside the package, didn’t you?”

  He glanced at the floor.

  “Ryan . . .”

  “Fine. It was cash.”

  Jonas kicked aside an empty box from Chinese takeout on the floor in front of him. “So who gave you the job?”

  “I can’t answer that.” He glanced at the door, clearly nervous at the direction of the conversation.

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure you can,” Madison said.

  “Don’t I have the right to remain silent?”

  “We’re not arresting you,” Jonas said. “Just making conversation.”

  Ryan looked back and forth between the two marshals. “Maybe I need a lawyer.”

  “What do you think?” Madison turned to Jonas. “If he’s not going to cooperate, we should just go ahead and arrest him for the outstanding warrant for trespassing—”

  “Wait a minute.” Ryan’s jaw tensed as he pressed his lips together, clearly debating his options and not liking either of them.

  Jonas took a step forward. “We can take you in if you don’t cooperate.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, we can.”

  “You don’t understand.” Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. “If I tell you who I work for, you’ll have to give me some kind of police protection. There’s no telling what he’ll do to me. My boss is not exactly a nice guy. And trust me, if I end up crossing him, forget the warrant out on me. You’ll be peeling my dead body off the street.”

  “You have quite an imagination,” Jonas said.

  “I’m not kidding. You don’t mess with the people I
work for. You do your job. Do it right, and then still worry that they’ll come after you because they didn’t like the way you combed your hair.”

  “Tell us who he is, and we’ll get him off the streets,” Madison said. “Then you won’t have to worry.”

  “And if he finds out who turned him in? Then what? It won’t matter if he’s off the streets. He’ll still find me. He has people everywhere.”

  Jonas scowled. They didn’t have time to play games. They needed the name of the forger. Clearly Ryan was scared, and from the way he was living, it wasn’t as if he had a lot to lose.

  Tires squealed in the parking lot. Jonas crossed the floor, then shifted the curtain slightly. A car pulled up in front of the building, windows rolled down and weapons pulled out.

  “Get down. Now!”

  Jonas threw himself onto the carpet, forcing Ryan down with him, as Madison followed his order. Rapid gunfire pelted the front of the apartment, shattering the window and pinning them down. A lamp exploded. He held his ears as dozens of slugs embedded into the wall behind them.

  The attack seemed to be over as quickly as it started.

  Jonas got up onto his knees, still staying low, his ears ringing. “Madison?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Ryan?”

  “I told you they’d come after me,” he said, pressing himself closer to the floor.

  “Well, for the moment, let’s just be glad that we’re all alive.” Jonas crept across the shards of glass to peer out the shattered window, lifting his head just enough to see what was going on outside. Car doors slammed shut. Apparently shooting up the apartment wasn’t enough. Four armed men were coming to make sure they finished the job.

  Jonas rose to his feet. “We need to get out of here.”

  Madison nodded and turned to the door, but Ryan let out a low groan.