by Liz Wolfe
The driver of the other car reacted as she’d expected and hit his brakes hard when he saw her brake lights. Tires squealed, and the smoke and smell of burning rubber filled the air as the car maneuvered into the left lane to avoid hitting them.
Suddenly the car spun in a full circle, and crashed into the mountainside.
Shelby slowed and pulled off onto the shoulder. Slamming the car into park, she grabbed her gun and pulled her cell phone off her belt, tossing it to Mac.
“Call Nine-One-One and report an accident. I’m going to check on them.”
She trotted back to the car and heard Mac following her.
“We’re on Highway Seventeen just about thirty miles outside Flagstaff. Someone had an accident behind us. They crashed into the side of the mountain. We’ve stopped, and we’re walking back to check on them.” Mac reached the car just seconds after Shelby. “They’re dispatching an ambulance and calling the highway patrol.”
The man in the driver’s seat sat with his head slumped over the steering wheel, not moving. His buddy in the passenger seat seemed to be in the same condition. She checked both of them for a pulse, and they were alive. Satisfied that neither man was in any condition to pose a threat, she tucked her gun in her waistband and pulled her shirt over it.
“Are you looking for identification?” Mac asked, as she started going through the men’s pockets.
“Identification won’t tell us anything. Besides, I doubt they have any on them.” She pulled a cell phone out of the passenger’s shirt pocket. “This is what I’m looking for.” She pressed buttons on the cell phone until she had a list of outgoing calls. There was only one number listed. She memorized the number and times that calls had been placed, and then punched more buttons to get the incoming calls. All the incoming calls were from the same number. She grabbed her phone from Mac and entered Ethan’s speed dial number.
“Ethan, Mac and I were almost run off the road by a couple of men.”
“Where?”
“Less than an hour outside of Flagstaff.”
“Son of a bitch!”
“Yeah, I’d say the leak hasn’t been plugged yet. But the good news is that they’re both still alive. One had a cell phone, and the memory shows calls to and from one number in the three-six-zero area code.” She could hear Ethan tapping on his keyboard.
“That’s in Washington State.”
“I know, but it’s a big area.”
Ethan paused, and she knew he was checking a database on his computer. “Southwest quadrant of the state. From Vancouver up to Tacoma, west of the Mt. Rainier National Forest.”
“Damn. That’s a lot of ground to cover.”
“If it’s a cell phone number, they could be calling from anywhere. Give me the number.”
She gave him the full number and waited.
“Bad news. It is a cell phone number. They might be located in Southwestern Washington, but all we know for sure is that the phone number was issued from there.”
“Crap. Well, it’s better than nothing.” Her left arm was beginning to sting now that the excitement was over. “Ethan, we called Nine-One-One. They should be here in a few minutes.”
“I’ll take care of it, Shelby. Are you still going to The Center?”
“You bet your ass I’m going there. If the doctors have already left, there must be some reason they didn’t want us to go there.”
“More likely, they just wanted to get rid of you. But it still can’t hurt to check the place out.”
“I’ll check in later.” She paused for a moment. “Ethan, please find whoever is leaking this information to them.”
“I’m working on it.”
Shelby snapped her cell phone shut just as the Highway Patrol cruiser pulled up, lights flashing, and an ambulance right behind it. She fished her FSA ID out of her back pocket and walked over to the two officers getting out of the car. The older officer was obviously in charge. The younger one had his hand on his gun as if there was going to be a problem.
“You called this in?” the older officer asked.
She nodded to both men and handed the older one her ID. “This is part of an on-going FSA investigation. The men are alive and need to be held until the FSA sends someone for them.”
“Will do. Any idea when they’ll arrive?”
“Probably today, although I can’t be certain. Your Captain should be receiving a call right about now.”
“They’ll probably be in the hospital for a while.” The older officer peered into the window of the car and waved the ambulance attendants over. He glanced at his partner and made a subtle motion for him to take his hand off his weapon.
“Just be sure to keep a guard on them at all times.”
“I don’t think they’re in any condition to run.”
“Probably not. But I’m more worried about someone getting to them.” She was relieved to be dealing with an officer who knew the drill.
“I get your point.” He gestured at her arm. “You want a ride to the hospital? Looks like you need a little mending yourself.”
Shelby looked down at her arm. Three inches below her shoulder, the shirt was ripped, exposing a nasty wound from the bullet. The sleeve was slowly turning red from the blood.
“I’ll be fine. I’m traveling with a doctor.” No way was she going to take the time to go to the local hospital.
“Dear God, Shelby!” Mac had just noticed her arm.
“It’s just a flesh wound.” That hurt like hell. Still, she knew all she needed was a little clean up and some antibiotics. Mac grabbed her other arm and shoved her over to lean against the trunk of the car, where he ripped her sleeve open to inspect the wound.
The two paramedics had one man out of the car and on a gurney. They stopped by Shelby on the way to the ambulance. “That looks pretty bad. We’ll check it out when we’ve got these two loaded up.”
“No need,” Mac said. “I’m her doctor. Do you have some supplies I could use?”
The paramedic nodded and motioned Mac to follow him to the ambulance. The older officer walked over to Shelby.
“I don’t suppose you’re at liberty to tell me what this is about?”
She shrugged and shook her head. “You know how it is.”
“Yeah, I know. If you tell me, you’ll have to kill me.”
Shelby laughed at his joke, old as it was.
Mac trotted back over with an armful of stuff he’d gotten from the paramedics. He washed the wound out with a saline solution, which stung like hell, and then with something else that set her arm on fire. The bullet had taken a gouge out of her flesh, but not enough to require stitches. Mac slathered some ointment on it, slapped a pile of gauze on top of that, and then taped it up. Good as new, except for the burning pain.
“You want something for the pain?”
She was beginning to think he could read her mind. Shelby shook her head. “I need to stay clear for a while.”
“I figured.” Mac sighed. “When we get to a town, I need to get some antibiotics for you.” She let Mac lead her back to their car and got into the passenger seat.
“I’m driving?” he asked.
“You know how, right?” She leaned her head back against the headrest and slitted her eyes to see Mac’s reaction. He grinned at her. The paramedics had both men loaded up and were taking off back in the direction of Flagstaff. The older officer leaned down and tapped on Shelby’s window.
“All set?” he asked as she lowered the window. “We’ll keep an eye on them until the FSA shows up. Take care of that arm.” He straightened and slapped the roof of the car to let Mac know they were good to go. Mac jumped a little.
Shelby grinned and waved at the officer.
Ethan hurried down the hall, nodding to coworkers. He opened the door to Monique’s office and waited while she ended a phone call.
“He’s expecting you. Go on in.”
“You look tired, Monique. Is Don working you too hard?”
“Doesn
’t he always?” Monique smiled and rose to place four cups and a carafe on a tray.
“Who’s in there?”
“John Fields and Chris Jackson,” Monique said.
“He’s working me too hard too.” Ethan winked at her and opened the door to the director’s office.
“Ethan, come in. This is FBI Director John Fields and SAC of the Phoenix office, Chris Jackson.” Don moved from behind his desk to the table by the window where Chris and John were seated.
Agent Jackson stood to shake Ethan’s hand, but Fields merely nodded to him and scowled at Don. “I’m still more than a little perturbed by your actions, Don. You knew this was already in the FBI’s hands.”
“We’ve discussed this, John. I did what I thought was best, and I’ll take whatever heat may come of it. But before you start blowing your top about it, you might want to consider your rather strained relationship with Ambassador Watkins.”
The room fell silent. Ethan took a seat and accepted a cup of coffee from Monique.
“My concern at the moment is that Shannon and Sam Masterson are being held against their wills. And there are others. We don’t know what these people are up to or where they’ve taken them.”
“I agree that the situation is unacceptable,” Fields said.
“And, I understand that you had an operative undercover with them and basically got no information at all from him,” Don continued.
“Sir,” Agent Jackson held up a hand. “Dr. McRae was only there to gather whatever information he could without compromising either his own safety or the future of our operation. He’s not an agent; he’s a psychiatrist.”
“And when he informed you that Sam Masterson was in danger, you still delayed sending someone in to extract him.” Don accepted a cup of coffee from Monique.
“There were extenuating circumstances, sir. We didn’t want to put Shannon’s life in danger, and there was no reason to believe the child was in imminent danger. We had plenty of time to decide the best way to handle it.” Agent Jackson folded her hands over a leather portfolio on the table.
“There’s something just not right about this,” Don said. “Your agent is now with my agent. I’d like to know why the hell he wasn’t coming in with the Mastersons.”
“Actually, I believe we may have a problem with Dr. McRae,” Agent Jackson said.
“You certainly have a problem somewhere, Agent Jackson,” Don retorted.
“Dr. McRae had a personal relationship with Shannon and Sam Masterson prior to this incident. He’s done extensive research on psychic ability in the past, especially pertaining to children.”
“Wasn’t that why you sent him to The Center in the first place?” Don asked Fields.
“Actually, Dr. McRae volunteered. In fact, he insisted on being allowed to infiltrate The Center,” Fields said.
“There are indications that McRae might be working with Thomas and Carlson.” Chris turned in her chair to look directly at Don.
“What?” Don asked.
“At the very least, it appears that McRae has his own agenda and that it might not necessarily mesh with the goals of the FBI or the FSA.”
Ethan felt a cold knot of dread form in his chest.
Agent Jackson cleared her throat. “We believe McRae has gone rogue.”
They were less than an hour from Tucson when Shelby’s cell phone chirped. She pulled it out and looked at the number on the display.
“Ethan. What’s up?” She shifted in her seat and transferred the phone to her right hand.
“Is McRae with you?”
Shelby sat up straighter, wincing at the pain in her arm. “Yes.”
“Chambers has been in touch with the FBI. McRae’s SAC thinks he’s gone rogue.” Ethan paused a moment, but she didn’t have anything to say. “Shelby, there’s a mole in the FBI. It might be McRae.”
Crap.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“McRae’s SAC is full of it. She refused to go in for Sam for several days. Mac had no choice but to extract him without her approval.”
“Calm down, Shelby.
“Calm down, my ass!” She glanced at Mac. He seemed calm enough. “And what’s this crap about Chambers talking to the FBI? I thought the reason I was brought in was that he didn’t want the FBI to know the FSA was investigating The Center.”
“He really didn’t have a choice once they took Shannon and Sam from us.”
“I guess.” She sighed. “Anything else I should know about? Any word on Chase Harmon’s whereabouts?”
“None. I’m assuming they took him wherever they have Zoe, Shannon, and Sam.”
“Great. I’ll let you know what I find at The Center.” Shelby flipped the phone closed and leaned her head back against the headrest.
“What was that all about?”
“Your SAC is saying that you might have gone rogue, since she hasn’t heard from you.”
“Looks like I’ll need that reference for my resume after all.”
“I wouldn’t rush to any conclusions. But I have to wonder why she’d say that.”
“I have no idea. Chris was very supportive of my involvement in the investigation.” Mac’s brow creased in thought. “This seems out of character for her.”
They were silent until they approached The Center. Shelby was sure Mac was thinking about what his SAC was doing. She was thinking about Ethan’s warning that Mac might be the FBI mole. God, she didn’t want to believe that. And she was reminded of why she always had the rule of never getting involved with anyone on an op. It ripped your objectivity to hell.
“Sure looks abandoned,” Shelby said as Mac pulled into the small parking lot. There had been no one at the guard gate. No cars in the parking lot. They’d only been gone for less than two days, and the place looked totally abandoned.
Mac parked next to the front door, got out, and hurried around to open her door. Really. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or aggravated. She’d taken some over-the-counter painkillers, and her arm had relaxed into a dull throb. She got out of the car, being careful not to jostle the arm any more than necessary. Mac stopped just short of offering an arm to lean on.
Shelby pulled her gun, and they checked the front door. Locked. Not surprised, Shelby took the lead and walked along the front of the building, down the window-less, doorless side and to the back. The back door hung open; the lock blown off by a gun. Well, wasn’t this interesting?
She motioned Mac to stay behind her, and he frowned but didn’t argue. She stepped inside, quickly assessing the hallway, which was empty except for the faint, dusty trace of heavy boot prints in the carpet. She paused and examined the prints. Not enough detail to tell what kind of boot, but the prints were large. Had to be a big man wearing lug-soled boots designed for working or combat. This was definitely not a random B&E of an abandoned building.
Shelby cautiously made her way down the hallway, trying doorways as she went. Nothing. When they reached the lab doors, she saw that the lock had been shot off and the door hung open. Shelby motioned Mac to stay behind her, as she cautiously entered the lab.
It looked like everyone had just walked out. Medical equipment was still in place; charts were still in folders.
“Look through those charts,” she told Mac, nodding toward a wheeled cart. She headed down the hallway where Shannon’s room had been. All the rooms were empty.
She stopped and checked the computer at the nurses’ station. Nothing. It wouldn’t even boot up. She pulled the tower around and immediately saw the problem. The hard drive had been removed. They wanted the data, but the equipment was expendable. And this was state-of-the-art equipment.
She walked back to Mac and glanced at the charts he’d looked at.
“Nothing important. Nothing that would imply there was anything going on here. Mostly these are older charts. Patients that aren’t here any longer.”
They moved to the other rooms that were unlocked and found a similar situation. They’d taken all the data
but left expensive equipment behind. Hard drives had been removed from every computer and server in the building.
“Let’s check out the rest of the place.” Shelby led the way to the doctors’ offices. Both doors hung open, the locks shot off. Shelby entered Dr. Carlson’s office and then motioned Mac to follow her. The laptop was gone, and a few drawers hung open in the desk and the credenza behind it.
“Check those drawers,” she instructed Mac. He went through the credenza while she checked out the desk drawers and then the small closet. Nothing.
There had been no sign of whoever had shot off all the locks and left boot prints on the floor. Mac and Shelby moved to Dr. Thomas’ office and found the same situation as in Carlson’s office. Laptop missing, drawers hanging open. No data, no clues.
Crap.
Shelby slumped down in the plush leather chair behind his desk and turned to gaze out the window. Mac shuffled through the open credenza drawers in front of her. That’s when she heard the noise.
“Don’t move!”
The deep, commanding voice matched the reflection in the window. He must have been about six feet two, heavily muscled. He wore desert fatigues, and his hair was cut in the traditional jarhead style of a Marine.
Shelby slipped her gun in between her knees and lifted her arms above her head slowly. “No problem. I’m an agent with the FSA. This is Mac. He’s with the FBI.”
“Doc?”
“Chase.” Mac nodded.
“You’re with the FBI?”
“I was investigating Shannon’s disappearance.”
Shelby slowly turned to face Chase. Seeing him again, she was struck by his resemblance to Sam. His hair was a dark golden blond rather than the lighter shade of Sam’s. But his eyes were the same shade of blue, and his mouth turned up at the corners in the same way as Sam’s did.
His eyes narrowed as he turned to Shelby. “Who are you?”
“Shelby Parker. I’m working with the FSA to extract Shannon.” She almost added Sam’s name, but figured she’d probably better leave that revelation for later.