“You’ll have to sign here,” the guard told Kelso who signed the clipboard while Gabby initialed beside his signature.
“We’re doing this at GHD?” Gabby asked.
“Yup. Cleared other departments to the other building as a precaution.”
As their vehicle passed the gates, Declan took a survey of the compound that housed the GHD. He remembered Gabby saying that they shared their building with an LAPD forensics lab. The other building was being used by the special Vice task force. She directed them to the one-story building that was typical of the construction in the seventies with red brick and concrete blocks.
The medical trailer pulled into the far end of the parking lot.
“Bristow has respirator masks,” Garrison said. “Use them before entering the building.”
Everyone complied.
When they entered the building, Mitchell was talking to Chen who scowled at the newcomers. The detective’s partner, who Declan remembered as Delgado, was standing beside him. He smiled at Gabby, but speared Declan and Garrison with the same chilly look that Chen awarded them. Delgado’s initial appreciation of his help yesterday had dissipated with the knowledge that he had used a fake badge.
“What we got?” Gabby asked as she joined the huddle.
“Let’s head to the war room,” Mitchell said, his eyes landing on Garrison. “You the spook?”
“John Garrison,” the man beside him replied. “And I wasn’t here.”
Mitchell nodded briefly. “Someone needs to liaise with our department. The feds are busy briefing the governor.”
“They’re probably scared to show up here,” Delgado piped in.
Everyone chuckled, but there was no humor in their tone.
“Well?” Mitchell prompted, his eyes landing on Declan.
What the fuck?
“Guess it’s you, Roarke,” Garrison muttered.
Gabby, who was talking to Chen, glanced over. “That’ll work, especially since you stuck your nose in our op anyway.”
“Dammit,” Garrison mumbled. “Guess you’re really up. Nice job, Roarke.”
If this was the only repercussion he had to face from his actions yesterday, then he was more than willing to step up.
Declan dipped his chin in an affirmative.
Satisfied, Mitchell turned back to his team and the group moved into a big room with a row of two open bullpens, each desk separated by low partitions on three sides, with its opening against the aisles. It allowed the cops to stand up and confer over the partition or slide around in a chair to talk to a person further down the row.
Gabby picked up a folder from her desk and as Declan passed it, he noticed a map of Los Angeles with red pins stuck to some areas, as well as post-it notes with phone numbers. A tall coffee mug and a stress ball sat on her desk. No photographs just like her house.
Garrison nudged him lightly as he passed him. “Keep the puppy-eyed look for later.”
Declan glared at his friend. “Fuck you.”
They entered a room with a wide conference table surrounded by wall-to-wall white boards. Link charts of different cases were scrawled on the surface as well as images held up by magnets. Mitchell walked to one featuring a picture of Ortega, and mugs of his known associates. Several dates and events were listed beneath it and one encircled in red was the fentanyl aerosol attack.
Mitchell added a line below it. “Possible Ebola.”
“I’ve received a high-level briefing from the feds,” Mitchell started, momentarily distracted by other officers and detectives entering the room, bringing their number to twenty. “The San Fernando Valley Police Department is holding their own briefings. Their patrol officers were involved in the raid yesterday but didn’t have direct physical contact with our suspect. Chen and I interviewed Ortega in an interrogation room. He didn’t look healthy at all, but we found chemotherapy drugs at the raid yesterday and we’ve known he has cancer which we thought would account for his physical condition when we arrested him.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “Last night, before the Lieutenant and I stood to leave, he slumped over and was running a low-grade fever.”
Declan was braced against a wall behind Gabby who was seated at the table. She straightened in her seat and leaned forward, alert.
“Ortega was immediately admitted to a hospital. We thought he was battling an infection due to reduced immunity from the chemo drugs, but we were informed early this morning via an emergency call from Homeland Security that he is in possession of a bioweapon. This has been confirmed by Detective Woodward. Thankfully, Ortega had been kept in an isolation room at the jail so he had little to no contact with the other inmates.” Mitchell tilted his chin toward Roarke and Garrison. “Declan Roarke is our contact with the feds.”
“Is it really Ebola?” one of the detectives asked.
“Nadia is analyzing the glass pearls contained in a pelican case we recovered from yesterday’s raid,” Mitchell said. “They’re the size of golf balls. Our first thought was that this was another medium for weaponized fentanyl, so we delayed its analysis, making sure we have our I’s dotted and T’s crossed, so we can use it as evidence in court. SWAT and GHD were able to perform the raid yesterday with Ortega’s outstanding arrest warrant, but the search warrant for the raid was retroactively approved this morning and Nadia immediately got to work with the knowledge that this could be Ebola.”
As if on cue, the door to the war room opened again and a woman Declan recognized from yesterday’s raid stepped in. She wasn’t a woman easy to forget with her sleeve tattoo on one arm, Goth makeup, and pale skin. She talked with Gabby briefly after the raid, and her contrast against Gabby’s natural olive skin was distinctive.
“Nadia, you have something for us?” Mitchell asked.
“I’ve conferred with my contact at the CDC,” Nadia said. “The genetic code of the liquid in the pearl I tested matched several benchmarks of the Ebola virus, but we both agree, it was modified. To what extent, I am still testing.”
“How contagious is it?” Delgado asked. “Have we infected our family?”
“Your family is fine. Ebola has an r naught of 1.5 to 2 which is unimpressive,” Nadia said. “That’s because it’s not airborne and transmission is only through bodily fluids only when a person exhibits symptoms.”
“Where are the rest of the pearls?” Garrison asked.
“Excuse me,” Nadia’s brow arched. “Who are you?”
The CIA officer didn’t say anything and merely treated the CSI tech to a penetrating stare.
“Garrison is with the feds.”
“The pelican case and its contents need to be turned over to us,” Declan said.
“Now wait a minute,” Chen spoke up. “We worked our asses off to get Ortega. Those pearls? That’s evidence to nail his ass on local terrorism charges which will carry a heavier penalty than the original RICO shit the feds wanted us to pin on him.”
“I doubt Homeland Security will leave something like this in your hands for long,” Declan replied. “Where is it exactly, Ms. Powell?”
Nadia’s eyes widened when Declan said her last name. They weren’t introduced, but he’d spied her nameplate when she walked in. She probably realized this after the fact when her face relaxed. “I have it in my lab’s containment unit.” She turned to Mitchell. “What do you want me to do, Captain?”
“Expect we’d be receiving a direct request from the CDC to transfer this into their custody,” Mitchell blew out a breath. “I agree with Roarke. A bioweapon of this magnitude is beyond our ability to handle.” Mitchell’s gaze turned to Declan and Garrison. “I expect you guys have more information?”
He turned to Garrison who shook his head. “We can’t share that intel with the whole room—”
There were varying degrees of protests and agreements.
“That’s bullshit,” Delgado growled. “You should have shared that information sooner. You put people’s lives at stake by withholding it.”
“Ti
me and place, Delgado,” Kelso spoke up.
“Then what the hell is the purpose of this meeting?”
“We’re waiting—” Mitchell started when Bristow stepped in.
“Most of you are familiar with Hank Bristow,” Mitchell said. “Our favorite nurse seemed to be holding out on us and works with the feds. As a precaution, and for everyone’s peace of mind, he and his team will be taking blood samples from each of us to check for the virus with a new test that could detect it before the onset of symptoms. Should take a few hours, I believe?”
Bristow nodded.
“In the meantime, we request that no one leaves. Food and refreshments will be brought in throughout the day. We won’t be confiscating your phones. I trust you all know the panic that would ensue if news of this leaks out prematurely. If you break that trust, I’ll confiscate your badge instead—permanently,” Mitchell said. “Woodward, Kelso, please step into my office. You too, Nadia, and bring the laptop.” The captain walked up to Declan and Garrison. “Now is a good time to tell me everything you know.”
“Cap,” Chen started. “You can’t leave me out of it.”
“Yes, I can,” Mitchell said. “I’ve been instructed by Homeland Security to keep this case as tight as possible but will let you know once I can share.”
“Why them?” the lieutenant snarled.
“Know your place, L-T,” Mitchell responded quietly. “That’s an order.”
Gabby didn’t know what Mitchell had to say that the other detectives couldn’t hear. She sat down in front of the captain’s desk, while Declan took the position behind her, his hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. That only served to make her more anxious. This had something to do with Claudette, and with Nadia holding Peter’s laptop—the laptop from the raid—she was sure that her ex-stepmother was involved in her father’s death. Did she pay Ortega and put a hit on him? Why? Because Theo was becoming very popular and she wanted control of his fortune?
When Mitchell’s eyes locked with hers in an expression of sympathy, she could feel emotion push up against her throat, a tightening that felt like she was choking.
“Gabby,” the captain said and nodded to the computer in Nadia’s hands. “That laptop did belong to Peter.”
A sob that she was holding in escaped her lips briefly, but Declan squeezed her shoulders again and this time it gave her support.
“Because of that, we were able to establish that Ortega did order a hit on Peter. He ordered the attack on you and Theo. We can even establish probable cause, but we’re missing some pieces.” Mitchell looked at Declan. “We’re hoping you have the answers.”
“I do.”
Gabby craned her neck and glared at him. “You knew all along?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you, but the timing was never right.”
The blood drained from her face, and she turned back to Mitchell. “Please go on.”
“We’ve tried to piece the documents in chronological order,” Mitchell said. “Right after your father divorced Claudette, he ordered a DNA test for him and Theo. According to Nadia, the results proved that Theo Woodward received only 22% of his genetic makeup from your father.”
“That means—” Gabby broke off, trying to understand what the captain was telling her.
“Theo is his grandson,” Mitchell confirmed. “We also found a copy of a DNA report that simply says Raul Ortega doesn’t match the DNA of a subject. We’re assuming it was also on Theo. This was more recent. The date of the report was a few days before the attack on your vehicle.”
“The personal items,” she whispered. “That’s what they took from the house. They also killed Peter. But why did Ortega think that Theo was his son?”
Her captain glanced up at Declan. “Roarke, care to fill in the rest?”
“Claudette was having an affair with Ortega. From what I understand, the man was obsessed with her and got her pregnant. Threatened to kill her if she had an abortion,” Declan said the words rapidly, as if he’d been holding on to them for a while.
“You were right? She swapped our babies?” Gabby’s eyes filled with tears. “Did her baby die?”
Declan nodded. “Her baby died in her womb two days before she called you to Van Nuys. She already had an arrangement with the doctor at the Our Lady of Lourdes clinic. Apparently, he was also Ortega’s doctor at that time and was the one providing Claudette’s prenatal checkups and reporting her progress to the crime lord. The doctor was terrified himself and was the one who suggested the switch to Claudette since she was also panicking. The mugging was the perfect excuse to explain her going into labor at the same time as you did.”
“I want to apologize, Gabby,” Mitchell said quietly. “I was the detective on your case and we focused on the attack on two pregnant women. We were so outraged by it that we didn’t even consider that another crime was committed at the clinic.”
Her eyes locked with Declan’s and lowered when he crouched in front of her. There was a cautious look on his face, yet it was tender. He picked up her hands that were clenched into fists and loosened her fingers, intertwining them with his.
“Angel,” he said gently. “Theo is our son.”
She saw the truth in his eyes and now she had the evidence. Oh, god. Theo was her son, the baby she thought she lost.
The choking feeling worsened, her lungs constricted, and she needed to escape.
“I … I can’t …” she choked. She wrenched her fingers from his grasp and sprang toward the door, yanking it open and sprinting out. There were people in the hallway—colleagues—and they looked at her curiously and then behind her from where she’d fled.
She ran past Chen.
“Where are you going?” he called. “You can’t leave!”
She bumped into Bristow.
“Detective Hottie, ready for your blood test?”
“Not now, Bristow.” She went around the nurse, stumbling, needing air. She couldn’t breathe. The damned respirator was killing her. Pushing the exit bar open, she yanked down her mask and sucked in oxygen. She fell back against the wall, bent forward, and rested her hands on her knees.
The exit door opened again, and she knew it was Declan, but she couldn’t look at him. She was drawn back into the vortex of feelings of that day everyone abandoned her. An event that also alienated her from her father.
Was that why Peter tried to reach out to her after his divorce from Claudette?
“He tried to contact me,” she whispered. “I didn’t give him a chance. Why wasn’t he more insistent?” Her voice rose angrily. “Why didn’t he just force me to listen to him?”
Declan leaned against the wall beside her, not touching her. “Maybe he wasn’t quite willing to let Theo go as his son.”
“And me?” she said angrily. “I was his daughter. He didn’t have any problem leaving me, did he? The idea that I tanked Dead Futures outweighed the fact that he left me. Did he even care what he put me through? Was that what the will was all about? Absolution for his abandonment? Well, fuck him!”
“Gabby …”
“How did he expect me to simply forgive that? He started a new family somewhere else!”
“I don’t think he expected you to forgive him, Gabby, but he didn’t want you to go on blaming Theo for his shortcomings.”
“I never blamed Theo.” Her eyes slid shut. “He was just hard to be around because he reminded me of you.” Then an unbidden smile touched her lips. “But the kid found ways to ingratiate himself in my life.”
She opened her eyes to see a smile curve the corner of Declan’s mouth, then he turned serious. “From Claudette’s conversations with your dad, she wasn’t sure if Peter had straight out told Ortega that Theo wasn’t his son. But things were tense between the two.”
Another thought about her former stepmother nagged at her mind. “You didn’t sleep with Claudette again, did you?”
Unlike Declan’s reaction the last time when she insisted he must have slept with Claudett
e, an almost relieved expression crossed his face. “I was telling the truth. She knew you were coming to see me, and I was desperate enough to fake sleeping with her to get you out of my life.”
The stab of pain in her heart must have shown in her eyes for he quickly added, “It hurt to look at you then, Gabby,” he said. “I felt like a failure. First as Claire’s brother, and then as your husband. I thought I’ve hit rock bottom when I’ve alienated you after Claire died, but finding you in bed with Nick sent me straight to hell.”
“What are you saying? That you and Claudette staged the scene at the apartment?”
“Yes.” Declan averted his eyes, a muscle ticked at his jaw. “Not proud of what I did. How I let that woman manipulate me.” He glanced back at her. “I regret hurting you like that.”
Gabby blew out a breath and with it another weight was lifted off her chest. She couldn’t believe how twisted their marriage had become. No wonder it didn’t survive. This reaffirmed what she told Declan that morning at the carousel. They’d been too young to deserve the love they had in the past and that left a question. Were they ready now?
Unable to process that question on top of all the revelations battering her that day, she changed the subject. “I just ran out of there.” Gabby jerked her head toward the door. “Maybe Nadia had more she could tell us. Breadcrumbs of their pissing contest at least. What else would cause Ortega to throw caution to the wind and have a prominent Hollywood player killed?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
Another thought occurred to her and anxiety rippled through her as she stared at Declan. “Shit. What do I do? Do we tell Theo that I’m his mother?”
“Of course we do!” Declan’s eyes flashed in irritation. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know, all right?” Her voice rose. “I’m scared. What if he hates me? I mean … I can’t just feel like a mom.”
“Welcome to the club,” Declan muttered.
Gabby laughed, albeit, not entirely in humor, but with a little bit of terror. She hugged her arms. “I don’t know, Dec. I’m glad I don’t actually hate him, you know. Just tried not to feel anything for him.”
The Ex Assignment (Rogue Protectors Book 1) Page 16