by KG MacGregor
"What the fuck?" The bitch wasn’t even home.
Yanking out the earpiece, Akers started the car and dialed the dispatcher at the field office. "This is Special Agent Akers. I need all available units in Alexandria for Operation Top Dog. Suspect is presumed to be in the area."
"We have three units in the Alexandria vicinity."
"Send more," he said gruffly.
* * *
Field Office Director Jeffrey Wilkinson pulled into the underground garage, irritated beyond measure at the actions of the IRS, especially in light of his promise to take their concerns under consideration. Even if he had decided to do what they wanted, it wasn’t going to happen now. They were not to be trusted.
Wilkinson had made the special trip back in tonight so he could have a look at the duty logs. He’d given the go-ahead for Akers to commandeer all available agents as needed – calling it Operation Top Dog had been his idea – but now, the director wanted to spearhead this operation himself. He would get great satisfaction out of taking custody of Rollins away from the IRS under a federal warrant.
As he approached his office on the fifth floor, Wilkinson was surprised to see Agent Mike Pollard turn the corner at the far end of the hall. Pollard was Akers’ partner. Shouldn’t he be out in the field?
His curiosity getting the better of him, Wilkinson walked on, stopping at the last office on the right. "Was that Agent Pollard that was just here?"
Agent Jill Burke practically leapt from her chair, startled at the sight of her boss. He almost never came to the offices during her shift. In fact, she’d only met him once in two years. "Uh, yes sir. He said he was…," what had he said? "Oh, he was picking up a prisoner and taking her to a scene."
Odd. "Did he say which prisoner?"
"No, sir."
Wilkinson continued down the hallway, pushing the side door to enter the stairwell. The prisoners were housed one flight up on the top floor. As he reached the landing, he was met by Pollard, who was escorting a petite blonde woman wearing handcuffs. What the hell was going on?
"Agent Pollard?"
The young man froze as he came face to face with his boss. "Yes, sir?"
"I was hoping to have a word with you, but I can see that you’re busy."
"Yes, sir, this woman is being held on a kidnapping warrant. I’m escorting her to a trailer in Manassas where she’s been living so that she can recover her personal items."
"At one o’clock in the morning?"
"Yes, sir. She’s being returned to Maine first thing tomorrow."
Wilkinson nodded vaguely. "Agent Pollard, would you mind bringing your prisoner in here for a moment so I can get your input on a case?"
Pollard hesitated briefly, but with no way to avoid his boss’s request, he complied. Wilkinson held the door while the agent pushed the woman through.
"Just go into that office right there and wait for me." He nodded toward an open door, then turned to poke his head into Jill Burke’s office again. "Agent Burke? Can you step across the hall with me for a moment?"
The woman hurriedly stood and rounded the desk, astounded that the man even knew her name. Oh, it was on the nameplate on her desk.
"And bring your gun."
Burke’s eyes grew wide as she processed the request. Her gun?
Wilkinson and Burke entered the office across the hall, the director immediately moving to position himself between Pollard and the prisoner. Removing his own gun from its shoulder holster, he took control of the situation.
"Agent Pollard, will you very carefully place your gun and your badge on the desk and step toward the window?"
Oh, fuck.
"Agent Burke, would you collect this agent’s gun?"
She did.
"Now, Agent Burke, I’d like for you to escort this prisoner back to her cell. When you reach the sixth floor, would you ask two of the guards to come at once to Room 523?"
"Yes, sir."
Mike Pollard stared into the barrel of the director’s gun. He was toast.
* * *
"Calling all units." That was the FBI frequency. "Operation Top Dog is suspended effective immediately. All agents are to stand down and return to regular assignment."
Like hell! If Top Dog was over, that could only mean that Wilkinson had pulled the plug. But Akers wasn’t backing out now.
The stubborn agent had just intercepted the kind of transmission he’d been waiting for. Unit 416 of the Alexandria Police Department had picked up an unidentified female shoplifter and was en route to the station. A shoplifter at one a.m.? It had to be about Spencer Rollins.
Akers pulled past three cruisers at the curb at the Mill Road station, blocking a dumpster at the end of the row. Within seconds, a fourth black and white arrived and two uniformed officers escorted a tall woman with long dark hair into the jail.
Yes, indeed! That was Spencer Rollins.
His cell phone chirped, announcing a call from Jeffrey Wilkinson. He had ignored the earlier order to stand down; this call likely meant that his boss was taking Diaz’s word against his. If he could just take care of Rollins, there would be no evidence against him, no matter what they thought they knew. He let it ring, tossing it onto the passenger seat as he climbed out of the car.
Through the front window of the building, Akers could see Rollins being escorted out of the receiving area, presumably to a holding cell. He entered and approached the officer at the desk, flashing his badge as he introduced himself.
"I’m Special Agent Calvin Akers of the FBI. There’s a federal warrant for the person your officers just delivered, a Spencer Rollins. I’m here to take custody of the prisoner."
"I’m sorry, Agent…."
"Akers."
"Agent Akers. The suspect who was just delivered was not identified as Spencer Rollins."
"Look Officer…Ellis. I don’t know who that woman said she was, but I assure you, she’s Spencer Rollins and she’s wanted for two murders in Maryland. She also has knowledge of the whereabouts of a four-year-old girl who is missing tonight and is probably alone and in grave danger. Now you can sit on your hands and fret about who she claimed to be, or you can let me question her at once. If you choose right, we might just save that little girl’s life tonight."
* * *
"You’ll be safe here. Agent Diaz said she’d come as soon as she got the call."
"Thank you. Thank you both." Spencer rubbed her freed wrists and watched her saviors disappear down the hall to the office area where they would file their report.
For the first time in ten days, Spencer allowed herself to think that this ordeal might be over. As soon as she was free, she would take on Ruth’s fight, wherever it was. She‘d spend her last dime making sure they hired the best lawyer in Maine to get the kidnapping charges dropped and the custody issue settled once and for all.
And maybe when they got things taken care of in Maine, Ruth would want to come back down to Virginia and really start over, free and clear. Spencer had tried not to think about it too much, but she really wanted Ruth in her life and in her arms.
God, was that just last night that they’d made love?
Spencer looked up to see the officer from the front desk unlocking her cell. Elena must have arrived, she thought with relief.
"Step this way, ma’am." He held the door open as she stepped into the narrow hallway and waited for him to swipe a card that would open the exterior door. "First door on your left."
Spencer did as she was told, confused at seeing a table and four empty chairs. The door closed behind her and she whirled, finally spotting the figure in the corner of the room.
"Good evening, Ms. Rollins."
Recognition was instant as she stared into the cold face of Henry’s murderer.
"Help! Officer! Help! He’s a murderer." Frantically, she crossed the room to the other side of the table to put distance between herself and the menacing agent.
"Even if they could hear you – which they can’t – I can’t
imagine they’d be surprised at your calls for help. I’m the FBI, Ms. Rollins. They all know how much trouble you’re in now."
In a fluid move, the surprisingly nimble agent vaulted the table, his arm straight as he aimed his service revolver directly at her chest. "You shouldn’t have gone for my gun like that."
The next two seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. In terror for her life, Spencer lunged forward, both hands reaching out to push the gun away. The sudden blast reverberated off the concrete walls as a hammer hit her chest and a fire erupted in her belly.
In the next heartbeat, Elena and Chad stormed through the door, the latter’s weapon already drawn. On their heels were the duty officer and the two patrolmen who had brought her in.
"Spencer!" The female agent rushed to the crumpled figure.
"She went for my gun," Akers declared. "I had to shoot her."
Elena rolled the woman over to check her wound.
"Bullet-proof, my ass," Spencer hissed, the pain in her gut greater than any she’d ever known.
Elena lifted the sweatshirt and saw the perforation. Even the highest grade of body armor couldn’t handle a bullet from point blank range. She lifted the vest to see blood dribbling freely from a wound just above the pelvis.
"Get an ambulance!"
The desk officer returned quickly to his station and placed the call. Never lowering his own gun Merke ordered the two patrolmen to take Akers into custody.
"No fucking way." Calvin Akers placed the barrel of his gun against his temple and pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER 28
THE CLUNKY SOUND of plastic dishes stirred the unfortunate occupants of the sixth floor of the FBI field office. Ruth pushed herself up on the rigid cot and swung her bare feet to the cold tile floor, angry at herself for being hungry enough to eat. To her thinking, if she refused to participate in this incarceration, she would be spared the memory when she was finally freed. It was bad enough that they’d dressed her in this orange jumpsuit.
How frightened Jessie must have been at spending the night away from her. At least Spencer was there with her, and the bond she’d seen growing between those two was her only real source of comfort. Between Spencer and Viv, Jessie would be protected from her mother’s probable fate, a return to the dismal place from which she’d fled.
Sitting now in the stark environs of the eight by six concrete room, Ruth couldn’t help but turn her thoughts inward; though introspection at this juncture was moot. Going out on a limb to see Spencer to safety was not an action she would second guess, unless it meant that Jessie’s new life had been compromised. She hoped that her efforts weren’t in vain, and that Elena was still working on bringing Spencer in. From the looks of things, there hadn’t been anything the agent could do for Ruth Ferguson.
Two pairs of footsteps – one decidedly female – grew louder as they approached her cell, and before she ever saw the face, Ruth knew one would be the IRS agent. A tired-looking Elena Diaz waited while the guard opened the door and motioned her out.
"Good morning, Ruth." She held up her hand to silence the question on the prisoner’s lips. "We’re going to go to a conference room so we can talk privately about where everything stands."
Ruth nodded once and followed her down the hallway, the guard bringing up the rear. Once they were situated, he closed the door and took his leave.
"Is Jessie okay?"
"I honestly don’t know the answer to that." Elena saw the frantic look and continued quickly. "We don’t know where your daughter is, but I think it’s safe to assume that Spencer left her in good hands."
"Spencer left her?"
"We brought Spencer in last night. She…we had some trouble at the station with one of the FBI agents – Akers – and she was shot."
"Oh, my god!"
"Don’t worry, she’s okay." The agent stretched out her hand to pat the arm of the woman across from her. It was clear that Ruth Ferguson had come to care for her friend, and from what Elena could gather from Spencer’s insistence that she come here first thing this morning, the feeling was mutual. "She was wearing a vest and the bullet struck her chest plate and ricocheted to her lower abdomen. She had surgery last night, but she’s going to be fine."
Ruth couldn’t stop the tears that came as the horror of Spencer’s close call overwhelmed her. "Is it over?"
In simple terms, Elena explained what had happened last night. The evidence in the case was frozen; and the suspects were taken into custody. All would be arraigned this morning, including Pollard, who now occupied a cell in the opposite corner of the sixth floor from her own. Akers had died instantly of his wound.
"So what happens now?" the blonde woman asked.
"You mean with the case?"
"No, with me."
Elena sighed and leaned back, forcing herself to look the woman in the eye. "A US Marshal is slated to take you back to Maine this morning. I can’t stop that, Ruth. I wish I could."
The prisoner dropped her head, her lower lip quivering in frustration and worry. "And Jessie?"
"Things with Jessie are really complicated, but we have a few options to play with here. And I do have some good news for you."
Ruth looked up to see a glint of encouragement in the agent’s brown eyes.
"My assistant, Special Agent Thomas Fennimore, has been up in Madison going over the books at Drummond Appliances. He found an interesting transaction – a rather expensive gift to a Judge Malcolm Howard – right about the time of your divorce and custody hearing. We’re pretty sure it was a bribe, and I think we’ll be able to force the facts out one way or another."
"A bribe!" Suddenly, it all made sense. No wonder the judge had simply accepted Skip’s word. It was all arranged.
"That’s right. And the real fun is going to start in about half an hour. That’s when your ex-husband and his father are due downstairs to meet with the agent in charge."
"Why would they come here? I mean, I’m supposed to be sent back today, right?"
"Right, but they came to collect Jessie. At least, that’s what I heard they were ranting about yesterday. But when they show up today, they’re both going to be arrested, and I get to do the honors," the agent grinned slyly.
Ruth would love to see that. But it wouldn’t answer the question about her daughter’s fate. "So you said there were options…with Jessie?"
"I did, and this is where you’re going to have to make a tough choice, Ruth. Custody issues really aren’t my area of expertise, but I know that you’re going to be asked to produce your little girl to the court to show that she’s okay. Until otherwise decided, she’s supposed to be with her father. My guess is that the Drummonds will post bail, and she’ll probably be sent back there."
Ruth was already shaking her head at that scenario. No way was Jessie going back to that. She’d promised.
"Another option is that you leave her where she is. If you do that, your chances of being released any time soon aren’t very good; and the odds of you ever being given permanent custody are probably nil. But if you think she’s safe where she is and that it isn’t worth the risk to give her up, just don’t tell anyone where she is."
"But then I might not ever see her again."
"You have to decide if keeping her out of your ex-husband’s hands is worth that."
Ruth needed to reach deep inside to answer that question. Winning custody for the sake of winning was Skip’s game. "He beats her, hard enough to leave bruises. She’s terrified of being there, and no one – no one at all – loves her but me."
"Maybe that’s your answer then," Elena said calmly.
"To keep her hidden?" The tears poured again as Ruth weighed the ramifications of that choice.
"I was actually thinking that you needed to fight for her. If you’re really the only one who loves her, it seems like she needs for you to do that," she explained. "And the bribery thing might work in your favor."
"How?"
"I think at the very least, there will b
e a new hearing with a different judge. I have to be honest, though. The kidnapping charge is going to work against you. But we can probably leverage what we have on Drummond Appliances to get some concessions from your ex. I like to see people like that do time, but we’ll bend to get the best outcome for your daughter."
"Thank you."
"You’re welcome."
"No, really, Elena. I appreciate all that you’re doing here. I know that Jessie and I really aren’t your concern."
The IRS agent chuckled. "That’s where you’re wrong. Spencer Rollins is my concern, and what you did for her makes you my concern too."
As Ruth had noticed in the park, Elena Diaz softened at the mention of her ex-lover’s name, and her brown eyes sparkled.
"You really love Spencer, don’t you?" the blonde woman asked, even as she dreaded the answer.
"She told you?"
"Yes."
"I love her more than I realized. I can’t believe I…well, at least we get another chance."
Ruth drew a shallow breath as she fought the mounting pressure in her chest, an inevitable despair sinking deep into the pit of her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Pushing back from the table, she stood.
"I suppose I should get my head ready to deal with all of this. Can you find out from Spencer where Jessie is?"
"Of course."
"And, uh…tell Spencer I said thanks for everything, and good luck."
CHAPTER 29
SPENCER TURNED THE old Chevy Cavalier onto the dirt road, stopping to collect her mail from the row of boxes. A half mile ahead, the road ended at what used to be the Rollins property, a sprawling acre with an expansive view of Jordan Lake.
Spencer had swapped the coveted vista where her parents’ house had once stood for a wooded half acre on a cove with a three-bedroom cabin. She’d hired out the renovations to one of her neighbors, a contractor who remodeled the kitchen and baths, updated all the wiring, and added insulation for year-round comfort. The finishing touches were a dock for the boat she didn’t yet own, and a gazebo for the parties she would probably never have.