SWAT Standoff

by LENA DIAZ,

  Donna murmured her thanks and took a deep, appreciative sniff before drinking some down.

  Blake sipped his then set it aside as he noted what was beside Donna’s keyboard. “The chief’s planner? Where did you find that?”

  She yawned and set her cup down. “In his office, of course. I grabbed it while you were snoozing by the counter. You snore, by the way.”

  Since no one had ever told him that before, he figured she was teasing. He sure hoped so, anyway. “I searched his office when we first got here. I didn’t see a planner.”

  “Did you check his wall safe?”

  “Wall safe?”

  “Behind his desk, to the left of the window, hidden by that hideous deer head he hung up last summer. Not that he even hunts. I think his nephew gave it to him. You’ve never seen him use the safe?”

  “I’m not exactly his confidant.”

  Her mouth tightened. “Yeah, sorry about that. When this is over, maybe we can all have a kumbaya moment together and become a real team.”

  He didn’t bother to remind her that he’d been fired and would never be part of her team again. Their current pretense was only until they could find their missing peers. As soon as Dillon was back—and Blake refused to believe that he wouldn’t be back—Dillon would tell him to get out. Which was yet another reason not to allow himself to pursue his attraction to Donna. There was no sense in trying to start a relationship when he’d soon be moving to another county, maybe even another state if that was what it took to find a job.

  “The combination is the chief’s wife’s birthday, by the way. Two digits each for the month, day and year, just in case you ever need to get in there. The main reason he has the thing is to keep his spare gun locked up. He doesn’t like to stow it in the gun cabinet with our rifles.”

  He gave her a curt nod and returned to his desk, coffee in hand. He didn’t bother to remind her that he didn’t know Claire Thornton’s birth date, or that the chief wouldn’t want him knowing the combination. That last part was a no-brainer, since he’d never even told Blake that he had a safe.

  They worked in silence, taking turns getting each other coffee refills, desperately needing the caffeine to stay awake.

  “How’s the timeline coming?” he asked, when the wall clock above the front doors had inched past six thirty.

  “It’s about ready to review, actually.” She motioned for him to join her.

  He rolled his chair over, and she explained the setup of her worksheet, with a tab for each of the team members—including one for Randy.

  Sounds from outside had both of them looking up. A group of seven men and women in dark-colored business suits, with crisp white button-up dress shirts and ties, headed up the walkway toward the front doors. Every one of them was holding a briefcase.

  “Looks like the cavalry has finally arrived.” Blake stood. “Only the feds know how to match their business suits so well that you can’t tell them apart.”

  Donna let out a sigh and walked with him toward the front. “The chief would hate that I called the feds for help. Things didn’t turn out so well the last time an FBI agent came out here to work with us on a case.”

  “Really? What happened?”

  “He was murdered.”

  Chapter Nine

  Donna tried not to let it bother her, or at least not let it show that it bothered her, when she let Supervisory Special Agent Richard Grant into the chief’s office. Once the fellow FBI agents that Grant had brought with him were all there at the same time as the Destiny P.D. officers and the state police, the place would be overflowing. It only made sense to give Grant this office. But it still felt like she was being a traitor to her boss.

  He really didn’t like the feds.

  She glanced at Blake, standing next to the door as if he couldn’t wait to get back to his desk. She couldn’t blame him. Even taking time to give a tour of their tiny police station meant taking time away from the investigation, time they couldn’t afford to waste. And in spite of the fact that they were both asleep on their feet, there were things they wanted to wrap up before being forced to get some shut-eye.

  Grant set his briefcase on the desk and looked around the rather large office with its private bathroom. “Thank you for offering your chief’s office for the duration. Looks like we could fit a few small tables in here and some folding chairs to accommodate my direct reports.”

  He indicated the three special agents who’d come inside with him. She’d already forgotten their names.

  “Do you have anything like that?” he asked. “Folding tables? Chairs?”

  She motioned toward the window behind the desk. “There’s a storage building out back where the maintenance guys keep their tools and lawn equipment for when they make trips out here. There might be some folding tables and chairs too, not sure. But the chief never throws anything away. Every time we get a new piece of furniture or equipment, the old one goes out there, broken or not. Key’s in the top desk drawer. Help yourself. Any office supplies you need—paper, pens, that sort of thing—should be in the file cabinets that run along the wall by the interview room. Those aren’t locked.”

  He opened the top drawer, rummaged through it and pulled out the key she’d indicated. “Joel, Colin, why don’t you see if there’s anything out back we can use? It’s going to be tight quarters around here, and it would be nice if everyone at least has somewhere to sit.”

  “Will do.”

  The one he’d called Colin—his name was Colin Lopez, she remembered now—took the key and headed to the door with Joel in tow. Blake opened the door for them and nodded as they stepped out of the office.

  “Stacy,” Grant said, indicating the remaining agent. “Can you give me a few moments alone with Detective Waters and Detective Sullivan please?”

  “Of course.” She paused beside Donna. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Detective. I’m Special Agent Stacy Bell, in case you forgot. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know. We’ve both got the same goal. Catch the bad guys and save the good guys.”

  “Um, thank you.” Donna shook the agent’s hand, surprised at her little speech.

  Stacy paused beside Blake and offered her condolences to him, as well, before leaving the office.

  Blake shrugged when Donna looked at him. He obviously didn’t know what to make of that speech either.

  Grant sat behind the desk and motioned toward the two chairs in front of it.

  “Detectives, won’t you both sit down so we can discuss things more in-depth than the earlier summary you gave me?”

  Donna slowly lowered herself into one of the chairs, feeling as confused as Blake looked as he closed the door. He settled into the chair beside hers. They hadn’t given Grant a summary when he arrived. They’d told him every single detail they could remember. Well, except for two details that she had no intention of sharing—that she’d touched the note in Randy’s hand and that Blake was technically a civilian.

  “I’m not really sure what else you want to discuss,” she said. “I think we told you everything. Unfortunately, we don’t know very much yet. Which is why Blake and I would both like to get back to our desks to work on the investigation.”

  “Let’s talk about the note that brought me and my team here.”

  He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out on top of the desk. It was a full sheet of paper, obviously a copy of the original that Randy had been holding. He read the words out loud.

  “Instructions for ransom will follow. If you don’t obey the instructions, the remaining members of your SWAT team will end up like this one.”

  “What’s your take on the writing?” he asked.

  Donna swallowed at the tightness in her throat. Her emotions were still too raw. She was barely holding herself together. “I’m not sure why you’re asking me. I’
m no handwriting expert. Isn’t that the sort of thing you guys do?”

  He smiled. “Yes, one of many things that we do. I have the original with an expert now, as a matter of fact. But time is critical. And I’m not from this area. I thought perhaps your instincts might be valuable in helping ferret out any clues about the author of the note.”

  She cleared her throat. “I see your point. Sorry. I’m running on empty, not thinking as clearly as usual. May I?”

  “Please.”

  She took the note from him and leaned toward Blake so they could both study it. But her eyes felt like they were crossing trying to read the script and make out the letters. It was now seven thirty in the morning, which meant she was coming up on twenty-five hours without sleep.

  “I can’t even make the words focus.” She handed the note to Blake. “What about you?”

  He frowned down at the paper. “The obvious of course is that someone probably wrote this ahead of time. It’s too perfect to have been scribbled at the scene. It’s dirty and wet up on Hawkins Ridge from the storms that blew through yesterday afternoon. I remember the original paper was clean, crisp. Or at least, it looked crisp.”

  “Go on.”

  “It’s not written in colloquial terms. It’s formal—perfect grammar, punctuation. Almost too perfect.”

  Richard sat forward in his chair. “Too perfect?”

  Blake handed him back the note. “It’s as if someone is trying too hard not to make a mistake. I wonder if English might be their second language, so they referred to a grammar guide to get it just so. At any rate, I doubt they’re from around here. That’s not how we talk.”

  Donna smiled at him, but he wasn’t sure why.

  “Interesting angle. Anything else?” Richard asked.

  “It refers to the SWAT team, but the chief isn’t part of the SWAT team and he was taken, too. Plus, Donna and I are on the team and weren’t there at the time the others were kidnapped. So any leads we pursue should be based on the intent, not what actually happened. I think the intent was to kidnap just the SWAT team, not the chief. Which takes him out of the equation as far as victimology is concerned.” He shrugged. “Like Donna’s, my mind isn’t firing on all synapses right now. We’ve both been up all night. So I’m not sure what anything I just said really means, or if it matters in the investigation. I’ll have to look at it fresh later.”

  Richard tapped the chief’s favorite pen on top of the desk blotter. Donna wanted to snatch it away, tell him not to touch the chief’s things. She had to curl her fingers against her palms to resist the juvenile impulse.

  In the window behind Grant, she could see the two agents that he’d sent outside pulling things out of the storage building. She wanted to stop them, too. They were rummaging around in the chief’s things, invading his privacy. And none of it was helping anyone find him, or the others.

  “You mentioned that neither of you was on the ridge when the team disappeared,” Grant said, breaking through her thoughts. “Why not?”

  She blinked. Suddenly she realized that neither she nor Blake had discussed a cover story for this before the agents got here. The only reason that she wasn’t there was that she wanted to find Blake and try to get him to apologize to Dillon and get his job back. If she admitted that, Blake would have to leave and quit working the case. What would happen to her? Did the FBI have any authority over her? She didn’t think so.

  “Detective Waters?”

  Blake put his hand on hers and squeezed. “You probably haven’t been up this late since college, huh?”

  His words might have been teasing, but she read the seriousness in his eyes. He was trying to cover her hesitation, help her through it. But nothing was coming to her. Her mind had gone completely blank.

  “It’s my fault,” Blake said, filling the awkward silence. He let her hand go and sat forward in his chair. “I screwed up. I didn’t follow the rules of the training exercise. Actually, I pissed Dillon off.”

  “Dillon? The SWAT commander?”

  “SWAT lead, yes. He slugged me, and I—”

  “He hit you?” The agent sounded shocked.

  Blake frowned. “It’s no big deal. In his position, I’d have probably done the same thing. Haven’t you ever punched someone?”

  “Someone who was working for me? Never.”

  “Well, you’re a better man than me. I’ve gotten in fights plenty of times.”

  “So I’ve heard. You had a bit of an anger management problem when you worked homicide out of Knoxville. Isn’t that why you left? It was either quit or be fired? I believe there was concern over a grudge another officer had against you, maybe even a concern for your life if you stayed?”

  Donna tensed. Could the agent be telling the truth? Was this why Blake had come to Destiny? Had the chief done him a favor, gotten him out before he could be fired? Or hurt? A light flush of red was creeping up his neck, which seemed answer enough.

  “Reading someone’s personnel files without a warrant is a crime,” he said. “And I can’t think of a single reason for a judge to give you one.”

  “I didn’t have to read your files. All I had to do was make some calls to some friends on the force.”

  “I bet those friends enjoyed being woken up at, what, five or six in the morning, to spread gossip and innuendo that are entirely irrelevant to this case. Is that why it took you and your team so long to get here? You were wasting time digging into my past—for no good reason?”

  Blake’s voice hadn’t risen during the exchange. Instead, it had grown steady, deeper than usual and deadly calm. She could practically feel the anger seeping out of his pores. And if she didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d probably be scared right now. Then again, if he had these kinds of secrets he’d never shared, did she really know him at all?

  Grant certainly didn’t look impressed or intimidated. He arched a brow as if amused. “That’s the real reason your SWAT team lead punched you, isn’t it? Because you couldn’t control your anger and punched him first. Is that what happened?”

  “No,” Donna interrupted, starting to get just as agitated on Blake’s behalf as he appeared to be. She’d deal with his secrets later, in private. But they were a team, and he deserved her loyalty in front of others—especially a stranger who came in supposedly to help them and was wasting their time with pettiness.

  Both men had looked at her in surprise when she spoke, and they seemed to be waiting to see what else she wanted to say. She straightened her shoulders. “The truth is that Blake showed remarkable restraint when Dillon started accusing him of not being a team player. Blake had just captured two of three fake bad guys in the exercise, all by himself, and was proud of that. It caught him by surprise to realize that Dillon was furious over the whole thing. But Blake handled it well. Dillon’s the one who didn’t. Looking back, with the gift of hindsight, they both could have handled it a whole lot better. Both of them made mistakes. But the real mystery here is how any of this is helping us solve the case.”

  Blake, oblivious of the SSA watching, took her hand again and squeezed. He nodded his thanks and let her hand go.

  The agent frowned at both of them. He directed his next question to Blake. “Your lead was angry enough over your performance to punch you. Did he do anything else after that?”

  Blake grew very still, his gaze locked on the agent. “Like what?”

  “Like, I don’t know, suspend you? Fire you?”

  “Of course not,” Donna intervened. “That would be overreacting. Dillon dismissed him, from the exercise. That’s it.”

  His gaze slowly moved back to her. As she tried not to squirm beneath his scrutiny, she couldn’t help thinking that Blake had been one hundred percent right up on the ridge when he’d argued about whether they should lie. He’d warned her that one lie would always lead to another and that things could get really compli
cated, really fast.

  Things were definitely getting complicated.

  She cleared her throat, which kept seeming to want to close up. “Again, I don’t understand why you’re wasting time questioning us. Everything you need to know about the case is in the reports that Blake and I spent the last few hours working up. We offered you free access to everything when you arrived. Even now your agents are out there reading those reports. All of this is in them.”

  Something akin to skepticism, maybe even disappointment, flashed across the agent’s face as he folded his hands on top of the desk. “Since you both keep questioning my motives in asking these questions, I’ll skip to the heart of the issue and be perfectly blunt. Does the name Jason Kent ring any bells?”

  She sucked in a breath. Her stomach fluttered like a whole field of butterflies had just taken off inside.

  “Jason Kent?” Blake asked. “Who’s that?”

  “The special agent I mentioned earlier,” she said. “The one who was killed.”

  “Murdered, you mean,” Grant snapped. “Because your team lead, Dillon Gray, along with your chief and your entire police force, misled Kent and gave him the runaround when he was here working on an embezzlement case. While you all tried to protect the woman that Dillon eventually married—”

  “Of course we protected her. Ashley was innocent, and the FBI was trying to railroad her. Kent didn’t give us a choice. The men behind the embezzlement, the people who were framing her, would have killed her if we’d let Kent lock her up.”

  “No need to review the details. I’m quite familiar with all the excuses given during the investigation that followed.” He drew a deep breath before continuing. “That history between the Destiny Police Department and the bureau warns me to take everything anyone here tells me with a great deal of caution. I’m sure you’ve heard the mantra, trust but verify? That’s what I’m doing here. Which means that I need to hear your alibis for where you were when Detective Carter was killed and the rest of the team disappeared. And I assure you my team will verify whatever stories you give me. So choose your words carefully.”