He’d better be there—probably wants more pancakes.
She put the car in drive, sped out onto the main drag, and gunned it onto the highway. Her thoughts were riddled with her family. The burden on Mom and Dad. Dealing with Allison’s problems. And Megan. This was one of the things she hated about her job. She loved her duty. She loved her family. But duty presided over family, and it hurt in times like this when they needed her.
“It’s all right,” her mother, Sally, had assured her. “We understand. It’s our job to handle this. We’ll get her on the mend.”
Her father, Keith, had agreed and nodded his head. Both of her parents were strong, but they were heartbroken, and they weren’t getting any younger. She could see it in their eyes. She heard the worry in their voices, not just for Allison, but for her. They didn’t like the job she did. It was dangerous. And oftentimes Sidney felt selfish. It tore at her.
Block it out. Block it out, Sid. You can’t take care of everybody.
Sidney had to live her life and be available when she could.
“Just do the best you can, Sid,” her father had said, giving her one last hug. His hugs were always warm and comforting. “Do the best you can.”
I try, but it never feels like enough.
CHAPTER 12
It was 8:14 p.m. when she pulled into the driveway of the FBI house. Smoke’s beacon was still strong, but the porch lights were out, and so was the lamppost at the end of the drive.
He’s not here. I know it.
The front door was locked, and none of the inside lights shone. She took out the house key that Jack had given her and fumbled around with the lock until she got it. Inside she went, testing the switches until she made it to the lamp between the living room and kitchen and switched it on.
With caution she made her way down the hallway. A dim light showed beneath one of the doors. She put her ear to it and heard voices on the other side. She drew her weapon, turned the knob, and opened the door. A set of wooden stairs led into a basement she hadn’t accounted for. Weapon first, she crept down them.
The basement was partially finished. There were hook-ups for laundry and an unfinished shower. The framework of two-by-four walls was laid out. There was an empty fireplace and a rec room or den of some sort. A flat-screen TV was on. In front of it was a plaid sofa, and there was an old recliner that didn’t match beside it. A news show was on the screen. A lady doing the weather.
What is going on here?
She noticed a wooden kitchen table with some papers fanned out on it. A pizza box and a two-liter of soda. Some power tools and drywall were lying nearby on the floor. There was a map hanging on a plywood wall.
A commode flushed.
Sidney whirled around.
Smoke stepped out from behind a narrow bathroom door. He lifted his hands up.
“Easy, Shooter. I’m just taking a ten-fourteen, is all.” He eyed the gun and cocked a feeble smile. “Glad you’re back. Is everything okay? You look like you’ve had a long day.”
She holstered her weapon.
“What is going on here?” She glided back to the table and took a closer look at the contents. The file folder was on the table. Her blood pressure spiked. “You stole my file.”
Hands still up, Smoke said, “I can explain.”
“Can you now?”
“Sure, I, er … okay, I stole it, but only so that I could work on things while you were gone.” He walked over to his map and pointed at the red circles. “See, now we can take another angle on things.”
“You made a mistake.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I stayed put. I bet you thought I wouldn’t, didn’t you?”
Her stomach gurgled.
Smoke opened the pizza box. “Half ham and onions and half Hawaiian. Please, have some.”
“How did you get this?”
“Uh … Delivery.”
“And how did you pay for it? Did you spend my money too?”
“No,” he said, “I’d never do that.” He tapped his head. “I have many numbers in my head. Hey, my accounts are still good.”
“Well, you did one thing right today.”
“I did? What’s that?”
Sidney picked up a slice of pizza and took a seat on the sofa.
“I like Hawaiian.”
The old sofa was comfortable. It reminded her of the times she and Allison would stay in their grandparents’ basement for long weekends. She bit into the pizza.
“I could warm it up,” Smoke said. “I came down here and saw that some of the breakers were off, but I let them be. I didn’t want any nosy neighbors dropping by for a greeting. I like my privacy.”
Sidney yawned. An image of Megan came to mind, and she forced it out again. She studied the television. “So, you’re getting reception down here.”
“I spliced into the box.”
“Cable theft is a crime,” she said with a laugh.
Smoke eased into the recliner.
“So, I’m here. You’re here. What’s the next move?”
I have no idea.
“You look beat,” he continued.
“I look beat? Really?”
“Sorry, I guess tired is a better word.”
She finished off the pizza and dusted off her hands. She wanted to lie down, but she forced herself off the sofa instead and headed toward the map.
“Where did you get the map? Did the pizza guy deliver that too?”
“Er … well, you shouldn’t be surprised at what you can get delivered these days. As a matter of fact, Amazon—”
“Save it. I don’t care to know.” She eyed the map that was tacked to the wall. Smoke had seven locations circled and named in colored Sharpie. “I guess they delivered the thumb tacks and pens, too.” She faced him. He sat with an innocent look on his face. “Is there anything else you care to share that you ordered? Should I expect a delivery from QVC?”
“No.”
Her thoughts raced.
He could have had a gun delivered. Anything! “Get up!”
“What?”
“I said, ‘get up’!”
“But—”
She drew her gun. “Now!”
Slowly he came out of the chair.
“Put your hands on your head.”
“Okay.”
She held her weapon barrel up under his neck, kept her eyes on him, and patted him down. Her fingers found a gun tucked in the back of his pants.
“Sit.”
Smoke obeyed.
“Where did you get this?”
“From the same agent that I got the handcuff keys from. Smith & Wesson .45 ACP.” He smiled. “A fine weapon. But he doesn’t deserve it if he can’t secure it.”
“And you don’t deserve it either.”
“You can’t expect me to traverse troubled waters without a weapon in hand.”
“No one said anything about you getting a weapon. It’s illegal for a convict to possess one.”
“I’m not a—oh, never mind.” He flopped back into his seat. “Fine. Keep it.”
She stuffed it in the back of her pants.
“Thank you.”
How did he steal a weapon from an agent? She turned and faced the map again, hiding the grin on her face. Impressive. I wish I could see Jack’s face when he finds out.
“So tell me, Mister Smoke, what have you learned from all of these locations?”
“Smoke, and they have nothing of use whatsoever.”
“What do you mean? There has to be something here.”
He got up and picked up the pictures from the table. “All of these pictures of Adam Vaughn at all of these locations. Well, guess what.”
“Humor me?”
“These photos are doctored.”
CHAPTER 13
Sidney studied the photos.
“You have to be kidding me.”
“I wish I was,” Smoke said.
She took a seat at the kitchen table and eyed each photo one
by one. Smoke was right. The shadows were bad. The angles off. Faint white lines showed where images had been trimmed and cropped. Repetition of pixels. A lack of reflections. They were good fakes, really good. She’d spent months working with the FBI’s digital forensics labs. She should have caught this right off the bat. She pushed her hair back from her eyes.
I’m an idiot.
Ever since Jack woke her up, her entire day had been rush, rush, rush. Everything was off beat. Unorthodox. She liked order. She liked a plan. She liked to be in charge.
Today is not my day.
“You have a good eye,” she said. “I have to admit I’m surprised. And I hate to admit that I missed it.”
“You hardly looked at them.” He cleared his throat. “Given the evidence, I have a suggestion.”
Sidney sifted through the file. There were rap sheets on some of the faces that accompanied Adam Vaughn.
“We’ll go after them,” she said.
“We?”
“Sure. You’re used to stakeouts, aren’t you?”
“Not with a partner. And I thought I was going this alone and reporting back to you.”
“Given the circumstances, I think it’s best that we stay together. I feel more comfortable keeping an eye on things.”
Smoke scratched his forehead. “So, when do we start this stakeout?”
“When I say so.”
The couch groaned when Smoke lay down. “Great, wake me up when you’re ready to go.”
Sidney continued her closer inspection of the papers in the file. Pictures. Names. Places. Drug labs. Murder scenes. Illegal arms. Adam Vaughn was in a mish-mash of illegal behavior.
“You know,” Smoke said, “I’m sure you know we’re being set up to fail. Or at least I am.”
“I thought you were taking a nap.”
“No, I was just thinking. Honestly, Agent Shaw, just let me go at this alone. There’s no reason you need to get hurt.”
She began organizing the papers and pictures in neat little piles.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Think about it, The Black Slate, it’s just a ruse. They don’t really want us to find those criminals. Or at least not AV. They just want paperwork for the files so that it looks like they’re trying to put them down. It’s all baloney.”
Oh Lord, that’s exactly what I was thinking ... Quick, find a reason to not like this guy.
“Sounds like you read a lot of conspiracy books in prison.” She plucked out the picture of a beefy dog-faced man named Rod Brown. “Do you lose a lot of sleep over it?”
“I always sleep like a baby.”
“Except now, unfortunately.”
“You really don’t have to be so defensive,” he said. We’re on the same team, remember?”
“We aren’t a team.”
“Then what are we?”
She found his eyes. “Screwed.” She held up the picture of Rod Brown. “But not as bad as this guy when we find him.”
***
“So this is your plan, stake out this Rod Brown fella?” Smoke sat in the passenger seat with a frown on his face. “With a face like that, he must have had a hard life. He looks like a bulldog. Maybe a Rottweiler. Why’d you pick him?”
“He looks stupid.”
“Man, why didn’t I think of that? Wow, you really learn great things at the academy.” He fanned the photo. “Just shake down the stupid-looking people.”
Sidney wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. It was difficult because she liked joking around. She often did with the people she worked with once she got to know them. Yawning, she focused on the road.
“You’ll be sharper if you get some rest,” Smoke suggested. “Tell you what. How about you let me drive this racing machine. Crown Vic. Rear wheel drive. Small block V-8. Pretty slow muscle if you ask me, but I can make it fun.” He toyed with the dash. “What year is this thing? Two thousand eight?”
“Nine.”
“Oh. Seems older. How about I put some music on. What kind do you like?”
She could feel his eyes on her. “How about you leave it alone.”
“I bet you like talk radio.”
“No, what I like is no talking about the radio.”
Smoke blanched. “Wow. That was almost funny.” Smoke leaned back in his seat and perused the file. “So are we going to Mister Brown’s apartment or hangout? I’d try the apartment first. It’s too early for the hangout. What do you think?”
“I think you’ll know when we get there.”
“That isn’t exactly fair,” he said. “I need a little time to visualize and prepare. You know, a heads up.”
Sidney laid down the accelerator and zoomed up the interstate’s passing lane. She loved the feeling of the car pushing forward.
“You’re breaking the speed limit,” Smoke said. “Huh, I bet you’re one of those speed demons. Where did you say you were from? Bristol?”
He’s annoying. Perhaps I should let him work alone.
Smoke kept talking and she continued her silence. Too many things were running through her mind. The doctored pictures were a problem. Surely someone else had studied them, Jack perhaps. The digital forensics lab. Who had made them? Why the deception? She had been with the FBI five years, and until today, the job had been cut and dried. And that begged another question. Why her? And why had her old boss, Ted, recommended extraordinary caution?
“So, how’s your family?” Smoke said.
“Great.”
He bobbed his head. “That’s good to hear. Do they live in the area?”
“No.”
“Well, not the immediate area, but maybe within a few counties or so? You sound local. Very, very local.”
“A lot of people say that about me.”
“A lot of people such as … friends?”
I’m going to shoot him.
“I noticed a little indentation on your ring finger,” Smoke continued. “Are you divorced? It’s funny how that ring seems permanent. It wasn’t Cyrus, was it?” Smoke pulled down his visor and checked his hair in the mirror. “No, it’s been a while since you two had your thing. But I have to say, you and Cyrus … you have to admit that was a huge mismatch.”
“Shut up.”
“Fine.” Smoke zipped his mouth shut, locked it, powered down the window, and tossed out the imaginary key. He closed the window and held out his hands.
And this guy used to be a Navy SEAL? Geez.
She blocked Smoke’s humming out until they arrived at Rod Brown’s condominium and parked on the street just outside the parking lot. The record didn’t state whether he drove a car or not. She checked the address in the file. Unit 12, room 11. She checked her watch. 10:35 p.m.
“If you stop humming, I’ll let you listen to the radio while we wait.”
Smoke mumbled from behind his sealed lips.
“Enough, please,” she said.
“So, now what? We’re just going to sit here?”
“Yep.”
“Uh … and what if he’s on vacation or out on the job?”
She shrugged. “We’ll see.”
Smoked stared out his window. “Why don’t you let me go and see if he’s in his condo?”
“No.”
“Come on. Just give me a little bit of leash. It’s not like I haven’t ever performed recon before. Please.”
His words softened her. She didn’t like it. “Ten minutes—”
Smoke popped open the door.
“Stop right there!”
He shut the door in her face and disappeared between the buildings.
Sidney closed her hanging jaw.
I’ll give him ten minutes. If he’s not back by then, I’m going to catch him and kill him. She pounded her fist on the dash. Men!
She took out her phone. Smoke’s beacon remained in the area. A text message popped up from her mother.
“It’s going to be a long few nights, but we’ll be fine. Jeff is here. Don’t worry.”
Jeff was
a lifelong friend who had handled Allison before. A good guy. Calm under pressure.
Sidney didn’t respond. If she did, her mother would keep texting all night.
I’ll check tomorrow.
She checked the time. 10:41 p.m. Smoke’s beacon was unmoving.
Maybe this is a good thing. Let go, Sid. Let go. You can’t control everybody. Just like you can’t control Allison.
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. The car was fogging up, so she rolled down the window. There were more than a dozen buildings in the complex. Rod’s was one away from the highway. His place was on the first floor. The file said he was a very husky guy, three hundred pounds or so.
Sidney reached into the back seat and dug a pair of binoculars out of a gym bag. She spied on the sidewalk that led in front of the condo. It was dark, but the lamp posts gave off a dim light in the steady rain.
10:44.
One more minute and it’s go time.
She kept the binoculars up. A hulking figure stepped into view.
What in the…
Smoke was running straight for her with a large man hefted over his shoulder.
He’s insane!
CHAPTER 14
“Open the door! Open the door!” Smoke yelled.
Sidney popped the locks.
Smoke swung open the back door and stuffed the hefty body inside. The back sagged and bounced with the impact. Smoke shoved the man over, hopped in the back seat with him, and shut the door.
“What are you doing? Have you gone mad?”
“Did I make it?” Smoke asked, scanning the dash.
“Make what?”
“Make it back in ten minutes?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, you said ten minutes. I made it, didn’t I?” He pumped his fist. “Yes, one of my best extractions ever!”
Sidney stared at the man in the back seat. It was Rod Brown. A white cotton tank-top barely contained his belly. His plaid boxer shorts were half turned around. He was out. Out cold.
“Go,” Smoke said. “Go! I think someone might have seen me.”
“No.”
“Yes!” Smoke said. “I see someone coming.”
A flashlight coming from the condos cut through the dank night.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series Page 6