Forty.
That was his name.
“What did I fucking tell you about using my name?” came a deep growl from over top of the trash can.
“Let’s discuss this shit later. I need help before we get caught red handed. Boss said to keep this clean.”
“I haven’t found the girl yet, asshole. She saw our faces. If I’m taken down, we’re all dirt, hear me?”
“If we don’t scram that’s inevitable. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her later. The cleaning crew will be here any minute and we’ll have to blast them too. How will we cover that up?”
A sliver of hope raced through Hazel. They were leaving. She would live.
“Listen, bitch. You might live another day but know this, I’ll find you and when I do, you’re dead,” the killer said.
Time seemed to crawl by as she waited. Afraid to move, she stayed huddled in the trash can long after she heard footsteps fade and the door slam shut. Her legs ached until they finally went numb. Sweat soaked her clothes but she couldn’t dare chance leaving her hiding spot, not until she knew without a doubt that the killers were gone.
Eventually, she came to the conclusion she had no choice but to move.
If she stayed there any longer, she wouldn’t be able to climb out.
Slowly lifting herself from the paper, she listened, hearing nothing but the sound of traffic on the busy street two blocks over. Climbing out, her legs wobbled and screamed in resistance. Once the blood raced back into her limbs, she hobbled to the door and with a deep breath of bravery that she didn’t think she had, she opened the door, still listening for any sign that the killers remained.
Nothing but the buzzing of an overhead light sounded.
She found her black heel laying on the staircase. That’s how the killer knew she was a woman.
The stairs were hard to climb, but she forced herself to take each one.
Once she reached the campaign office, she heard the rumbling of a vacuum cleaner. She peered through the outer office and saw a woman who was joyfully sweeping while dancing along to music from the ear buds she was wearing.
Hazel took three steps and face planted on the carpet. She’d forgotten that her legs were still partially asleep from sitting cramped for so long. Pushing herself up, she stood, feeling the tingles of blood rushing back into her extremities. Once she knew she wouldn’t fall again, she slowly made her way across the room, waving frantically to get the woman’s attention. Once Hazel was within several feet, the woman’s chin bounced up and she jumped in alarm, dragging the ear buds form her ears.
“Thank God! Did you call the police?” It struck Hazel as odd why the woman was still cleaning. She must have seen the body. The blood. Something.
Chapter 5
Cox strolled to the front door of Congressman Noleen’s steel and concrete modern home in the coveted location of the gated community. Early yet, no lights were on in the large, stacked windows on the face of the house.
Before he had a chance to knock, the door swung open revealing a tall, athletic man wearing a tailored black suit, silk tie and an earpiece. He waved Cox in, and, without a word, showed him through a set of massive Walnut doors then into a mammoth office decorated with elegant, masculine furniture. Congressman Noleen occupied the executive chair behind the cluttered desk. When he saw Cox he stood and rounded the desk, holding out his hand in greeting.
Noleen looked younger on TV than in person.
“Thank you for coming, Agent Landon. I know it’s early, but I’ve heard you keep odd hours. By the way, congratulations in helping take down one of Wyoming’s most wanted drug criminals, Queen Bee, some months ago. I know you’re the man who can help me with a case.” Noleen was a tall, lanky man with curly hair that had more silver than black. His weathered skin and deep wrinkles around his pensive eyes gave the impression that he was in his late sixties, but Cox had read somewhere that he’d only recently celebrated his fifty-fifth birthday. Cox understood all too well how a career-choice could age a man rather quickly. Running for president probably aged the calmest, most centered, of men.
Over the last few years Cox had worked several security positions for politicians. He didn’t mind the work. It was an easy cash job.
Shaking the man’s hand, Cox asked, “You said you needed help with a case?”
A door at the other side of the office opened and a man dressed very similar to the charming one who had showed Cox into the office came into the room. A smile naturally broke out on the man’s face. “Long time no see, my friend.”
“Mathew Brooks? Is that really you?” Cox had to blink to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. The last time he saw Brooks was during a hostage crisis mission in Somalia.
“Don’t look so surprised.” Brooks was the dictionary definition of a lean-mean-running machine. Cox couldn’t think of a better man. They gripped hands and gave each other a buddy slap on the back.
“You have anything to do with this?”
“I might have put in a good word,” Brooks admitted with a cheeky grin.
“How’s the wife and kids?”
“Doing great. Really great.” He beamed with pride.
Cox looked back to Congressman Noleen. “Now I’m very interested where this is leading.”
“Please, have a seat, Landon, and I’ll explain.” He pointed at the chair in front of the desk. “Brooks, will you have Jeannine make coffee. How do you like yours, Cox?”
“Black is fine.” He’d been awake for too many hours to count and had just arrived back from a reconnaissance mission when the receptionist told him that the Congressman’s office had called asking to see Cox. Many people would be sweating when called to a congressman’s home, but Cox had gotten used to meetings, some secret and some not, with politicians.
Brooks left the office.
“You don’t mind if I call you Cox, do you?” Congressman Noleen took a seat on the corner of his desk.
“No. Cox is fine.” He’d learned in his career that when a man in the Congressman’s caliber wanted to be on first name basis with someone it always turned out to be something for the books.
“Great. You know, I served in the Navy too. Joined when I was eighteen. Those were the days,” he whistled through his teeth. “If I had it to do it all over again, I would have stayed in.”
The private door came open and Brooks brought in a folder. He was followed by a tall, slender, stuffy-looking man and a woman carrying a tray of cups and carafe. Brooks deposited the thick folder on the desk while the woman set the tray on a side table and poured coffee into the china cups, setting one on the desk next to the folder and handing Cox the other. “Thank you,” Cox said, but received no reply from the young woman. She left the office.
“Cox, this is my assistant, Lucifer.” Noleen referred to the man who looked like his tie was too tight. “He did some background checking. You’ve had an amazing career.”
Cox swiped a hand down his whiskered jaw and shrugged. He didn’t like the idea of being investigated, but it wouldn’t be the first, or last, time. “Men have had more courageous careers.”
Noleen left his perch on the corner of the desk and grabbed the folder, opening it and reading the top sheet. He smiled. “As a SEAL sniper you served a tour of duty in Iraq, another in Istanbul, and numerous classified missions. You were awarded several commendations for your acts of heroism in combat. Silver Star and an Achievement Award, and half a dozen personal awards. I’d say that’s a commendable career.”
Shifting uncomfortably in the chair that suddenly seemed too small, Cox leaned his elbows on his bent knees. He also didn’t like being in the spotlight. “Just doing my job, sir.”
“Four years ago you were honorably discharged after your convoy was attacked by enemy fire and an IED exploded. You were wounded, but somehow you managed to survive.”
Oddly, his left leg tingled at the mention of the injury that left him unable to walk for six long months. When specialists had told him he’
d never walk on the leg again, Cox had proved them all wrong when he’d submerged himself into physical therapy, working three times harder than expected, swimming lap after lap, and by the end of the year he was walking again. Left with a slight limp, and a burning pain on some days, he counted his blessings that he could still move at all. The men in his unit hadn’t been so lucky. A sharp bitterness pounded through him, but he refused to allow the raw emotion to work its way up from the cavernous hole where he’d buried them.
“But that’s not where it ends. You were grabbed up by Wyoming DEA almost before your plane landed on friendly soil. You were with them until you were talked into joining Security for Gilbert Goss. His loss to democratic running mate Yates was ugly but rather expected.” With a grin, the Congressman continued, “Eventually you were assigned to the Mountain Force, an elite team that has an excellent track record of bringing in criminals like Queen Bee and members of the cartel Blue Diamonds. Mountain Force has made quite an impression here in Wyoming.”
Although he appreciated his team being recognized for their astounding achievements because, truthfully, they busted their asses to bring down the scum of Wyoming, he didn’t understand what all this had to do with being in the Congressman’s office at the ass-crack of dawn. From the way things were headed, Cox half expected that the man had jumped the gun for being elected and was already hiring his security staff. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t understand why I’m here.”
“Of course, of course. I’ll get to the point.” He closed the folder while the assistant and Brooks stood to the side like pensive hawks. “Last night, my niece was working late at our campaign office when we had a mishap.” The Congressman waved over Brooks.
The stout man fixed his tie and cleared his throat. “Ms. Levine ran into a problem.” The man met the Congressman’s gaze for a second before resuming, “She states that two men came into the building and shot and killed one of our workers. His name is Trent Shoemaker. He’s the campaign manager.”
“You said “she states’,” Cox said. “There’s either a dead body or there’s not.”
“Yes, true,” Brooks swiped a hand over his cleanly shaven jaw.
“No body was found. No sign of foul play. Just my niece’s word. The police arrived, investigated and found no evidence that a crime had been committed,” the Congressman added. He sat back down on the corner of the desk. The creases around his eyes deepened again and he scowled.
“And she says she witnessed the murder?” Cox leaned back into the chair.
“She swears she saw it happen. One of them chased her into the storage room where she says she hid in a trash bin until the cleaning person arrived. The police took her statement,” Brooks explained.
“Does the office have cameras?” Cox liked a good mystery as much the next special agent, but he hadn’t slept in two days and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep twenty-four hours, which wouldn’t happen. The next case was only a breath away. He drank his coffee, surprised at how good it tasted.
“Yes, and the detectives on the case reviewed them. At approximately ten PM we see my niece walking through the office. She says she was going to make copies. The camera view doesn’t quite reach that area. A few minutes later Trent is seen coming in, we could see him waving and then turning.”
“Turning?”
“To leave,” Brooks answered. “Then the cleaning crew came in thirty minutes later and got to work. There are no cameras in the rest of the building.”
Cox slid his gaze to Noleen. “Does your niece tend to see things? Does she have a habit of lying?”
There was a silent look between the two men again. Neither seemed to want to answer until finally Lucifer spoke up, “No, but she certainly has a vivid imagination.”
“She’s my sister’s daughter. I’m afraid just like her father was, she isn’t as grounded as she could be.” The Congressman slid off the desk and went to sit in the chair, sipping his coffee.
“Being ungrounded doesn’t make a person witness murders that didn’t happen. Has anyone spoke with or found the questionable victim?”
“No, the issue is, yesterday was his last day as my campaign manager.” The Congressman downed the contents of his cup, looking a bit piqued.
“Why?” Cox asked.
“Mr. Shoemaker had leaked some information regarding the campaign to Mr. Noleen’s opponent, Democratic top runner Bob Murphy, the oil tycoon who suddenly has a taste for politics.” Lucifer smirked and crossed the office to the bookcase, leaning against the frame. “We felt, under the circumstances, it was best Shoemaker no longer worked for our campaign. He was a spy. I did the honors of firing him.”
“Sure, makes sense that he should be kicked to the curb, but if he’s alive it shouldn’t be too hard to find him. That’ll prove this case one way or another.” He looked from Brooks to Noleen and then the picture became clear. “Unless this is more about keeping things quiet than the supposed murder.”
“We have no reason to believe Shoemaker’s dead. Investigators ran his credit card and he used it thirty minutes after he was allegedly dead at a local ATM.” Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest.
“Call him.” To Cox this seemed elementary.
“His phone, which was property of the Noleen campaign, was left on his desk.”
“Look, I’ll play devil’s advocate for just a minute.” Still not sure why he was here, Cox debated his words carefully. “Were you interviewed, Congressman?”
“Please, call me Brent.”
“He gave a statement,” Brooks told Cox.
Lucifer’s beady eyed glare was on Cox, who couldn’t remember someone hating him so quickly. Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d stepped on someone’s toes without realizing it. “How about the other campaign workers?”
“No,” Brooks said.
“So the focus here is protecting the campaign and not what actually happened in the office?” Cox had never been one to mince words.
“This is absurd. Just as we’ve said, there is no evidence of a murder,” Lucifer snapped. “We don’t want this blowing up in our faces. This could destroy Congressman Noleen’s campaign and for what? Surely you can see the need for discretion, Agent Landon.” The disgruntled assistant swiveled on his polished loafers to face Noleen. “We can’t drop everything you’ve worked for because of a slip of the eye.”
Noleen motioned for Lucifer to step back.
Wrapping his head around the events, Cox turned in his seat to Noleen. “Locals have investigated and apparently they’ve ruled this as fruitless. I’m really not sure what I can do to help.”
“Brooks, Lucifer, would you leave Cox and I for a moment?”
As if he’d been asked to cut off a limb, the assistant dropped his arms and sighed in annoyance, but did as he was asked. Brooks closed the door behind them.
“I’m sorry about Lucifer’s…passion. I’m afraid he gets worked up easily. Believe it or not, he’s great at what he does.” Congressman Noleen eased back in his chair and steepled his fingers. He’d aged a few years in the last five minutes. “I love my niece. I’ve tried to be there for her since her father died. She’s always been…stubborn to say the least. She’s had a run of bad luck with jobs. When she lost yet another recently, my sister asked me to help by giving my niece a job, so I did. That was four months ago and she…” he seemed to search for the right words, “hasn’t quite found her niche or connected with any of her co-workers. I’ve received several complaints of her lack of attention.” He rubbed his furrowed brow.
Cox believed Noleen loved his niece, but did he love his campaign more? “Is it possible no one wants to be friends with the Congressman’s family, you know, thinking all their secrets will be passed back to you.” He knew how office politics worked. “What was she doing in the office alone?”
Noleen dropped his hand to the desk. “It was late, and she was getting caught up.”
“A worker staying late to get her work d
one doesn’t sound like lack of attention. Would she have reason to make up the murder?”
The long hesitation told Cox a lot. Noleen finally answered, “She’s been angry with me these days. We don’t always see eye-to-eye on politics and issues.”
“Enough that she’d try to ruin your campaign?” Cox noticed how the other man’s gaze flitted to the door. “Your people think she would?”
With a tired sigh, Noleen stood and went to the window and looked out. “I don’t know what to believe. I don’t want to think I can’t trust my own niece, but this all seems so…well, contrived. There’s not one sliver of evidence to back up her story.” His shoulders slumped some and then he turned. “She said one of the men threatened her. Told her he’d return and finish the job.”
“If the murder didn’t happen then she’s safe.” Cox stretched, feeling his eyelids growing heavier by the second.
“But she doesn’t think she is, and I’m obligated to make her feel safe. Sierra would never forgive me if she knew I didn’t take her daughter seriously.” He dropped his hands to the desk and pushed the closed folder to the side. “That’s why I called you here. I can be assured of my niece’s care if she’s with you.”
Cox was damn tired, so it took him a good five seconds before he grasped what the other man was saying. Most importantly, Cox had heard the unspoken word “babysitter”. “Sir, I can understand your desire to keep your niece safe and I respect that , I do, but I’m afraid I’m not the man for the job. I’m not available because I’ve been a bit busy fighting crime these days. My babysitting card is all full.” He chuckled, but it fizzled under the Congressman’s ominous glare. “I appreciate you thinking of me and your confidence in my capabilities, but I’m afraid I better hit the road now—”
Cox was halfway up from his chair when he heard, “Cris Landon is your sister, right?”
Dropping back into the chair like he’d been deflated, Cox met the man’s gaze head on, feeling his jaw involuntarily twitch. “Yeah, she’s my sister.” Gripping the arms of the chair, Cox could have splintered the wood with his bare hands, but he held back. The meeting took on an entirely different path that left the air morose.
Tormented by the Lawman (Mountain Force Book 3) Page 4