The NightShade Forensic Files: Fracture Five (Book 2)

by A. J. Scudiere

  Eleri tried to hide her surprise that Walter remembered her name. There was a lot more going on in Walter than was obvious from the outside. Right then, Eleri decided that she was bringing the woman in for questioning, too. She was far too useful to let go. "Walter."

  Seeing that Walter had a handle on the fading struggles Rollins put up, Eleri checked Ozzy. Donovan was already there, nudging the man and sniffing at him. She took the deliberate downward movement of his snout as a nod that things were okay; Ozzy was just out. Her own check confirmed it and her small hands were able to smack at the man's somewhat dirty cheeks and get his eyelids to flicker open.

  She wondered for a moment if Donovan should have just licked his face.

  Walter seemed to have assessed her situation and decided that Eleri was her best bet. So, despite the fact that Walter was sprawled on the ground using martial arts to pin down one of the best-of-the-best, she struck up a semi-casual conversation that Eleri hadn't seen coming.

  "So, where's your partner tonight?"

  Right beside you. But she didn't say that. "On another assignment."

  Walter offered a nod, but was clearly playing a hand she'd carefully laid out. "What brings you by?"

  As though Eleri had stopped in for a drink.

  Deciding that Walter was too smart to manipulate, Eleri gave her the truth. "I'm actually following that man you have face down in the dirt."

  "Fuck you." Rollins muttered up at her while Walter smirked.

  Shit. Bad play. While she was making friends with Walter, she'd pissed off the man she was after. Eleri might find Walter useful, but Rollins had been her primary target. Rookie mistake. She wanted to kick herself.

  "Sorry, Rollins. You know where you are?" She squatted down to get a good look at his face and saw him roll his eyes at her.

  "Los Angeles." He offered up with a side of pissed-off righteousness.

  But Eleri understood. She'd seen a lot of this in the hospital. A lot. While she had no formal training in therapy, she did have a psych degree, with plenty of work in abnormal and trauma psych. Bread and butter to someone in her line of work. She had him diagnosed the first time she'd seen him. "Rollins, where were you just a minute ago?"

  He didn't answer.

  "Fallujah?" She offered.

  His eyes flickered and she could almost see his brain register the surprise then write it off as a good guess. He was ex-military, a lot of them had been through Bagram and the area.

  She tipped her head a little farther to the side, glad that Walter was working with her, sensing that Eleri wasn't ready to let this explosive man up yet. "It wasn't a guess."

  His slight nod was the only acknowledgment.

  "Do you know why you're on the ground?"

  He nodded again.

  "I want to have Walter let you up. You can't go for a weapon again. You know who Walter is?" She needed to be sure. There was no telling how many weapons these soldiers had stashed here. While she thought most of them were perfectly safe in the hands of trained servicemen and women, she didn't want Rollins getting his hands on them. And he probably knew of several within reach.

  "She lives here with Ozzy. I don't know her real name. She's MARSOC." He sighed again, maybe because no one had let him up.

  Eleri cataloged that he only said he didn't know Walter's real name. Maybe he knew Ozzy's. But she went on. "You have a diagnosis on file?"

  This time, his eyes flashed quickly to hers. Not afraid, not angry, but warning.

  No. He did not have a diagnosis on file.

  Eleri pushed.

  "Dr. Gardiner helped you?"

  "Yes." He gritted his teeth but stayed still on the ground.

  Looking up at Walter, Eleri gave a small nod. Walter slowly eased off, letting up pressure, and only releasing Rollins’ hand at the last minute. Had he done anything sudden, she could have easily regained control.

  He stood, brushed himself off, and was careful to make no sudden movements. First, Cooper Rollins turned to Ozzy, once again sitting in his chair, keeping watch over the proceedings, just like he'd started the night.

  "Ozzy, I'm sorry man." Cooper's stance, his flitting hands, his tone, all told the same thing. The apology was sincere and his actions truly regretted.

  Ozzy had none of it. He waved a hand. "We've all been there. One way or another."

  Rollins nodded toward Walter, but she didn't get the same apology and Eleri took a slow deep breath in without looking like it. Everything came to a head now and she was out here apparently alone. Donovan couldn't be her backup. It would blow the singular best cover in the world.

  So Eleri Eames, senior partner, was trying to haul in a Green Beret and a Marines Special Forces Operator, by herself. The only way was to secure their agreement. She would not win against two of them.

  If she failed, Cooper Rollins would be in the wind and there wouldn't be anyone on the inside to tell them what was under all that black ink in his files. Why the Fallujah mission had gone so bad, so fast. And who the hell was blowing up people with a tie to the military in general and to Cooper Rollins specifically.

  Eleri had to talk them into it.

  "Rollins. I came here to find you."

  He stiffened and she changed tacks.

  "You're the only one who can help us sort out what happened in Fallujah . . ." His shoulders ticked again, and she softened her voice, if not the words. "And who killed Dr. Gardiner. We need your help."

  He wasn't convinced. His stance radiated his military training and his reluctance to move.

  Want to get something? Give something.

  The words radiated through her head. Her Academy trainer had made them put the phrase at the top of every written test in negotiations training. She'd had to mutter it before going into live action scenarios. She now heard that trainer’s voice in her head and she handed over a piece of intel to Cooper.

  "There are three victims now. The third happened earlier today."

  This. This had his eyes locking on hers, and in her periphery Eleri could see she held Walter's rapt attention, too. "We have suspicions, but we don't know anything." Eleri looked briefly at Walter, wanting the woman to know she was in on the conversation.

  "You know, don't you, Cooper, that we can't ID anything they leave behind without DNA tests." And she took a wild guess, something coming to her. "You were there, right? After Dr. Gardiner died."

  His head jerked toward the side, but his eyes stayed on her and she pushed with nothing behind her reasoning but a feeling in her gut. Donovan would be proud.

  If it went well. If Rollins ran and Walter pummeled her to the dirt, Eleri would blame her pushy partner into perpetuity.

  "You saw what was left of Gardiner—his office—before the police came."

  His eyes flickered once. Twice. He nodded the slightest amount and Eleri knew it was the only admission she'd get.

  For a moment she took stock. Her back was tense, her leg muscles ready to pop into action at any second. She wished Wade were here as backup. But he and Westerfield had worked the crime scene and maybe gone to bed. Donovan hadn't wanted to share their undercover plan until it was completed. He really did not like running around as a wolf in Los Angeles. While Eleri agreed that the fewer people who knew the better, right now she wished someone understood.

  Then she lied. "We know you're one of the good guys, Cooper. Can you come in and tell us what you know? Help us save people?"

  12

  Donovan showered quickly, once again the feeling of being in the confined square of the compound lingered long after the experience. Maybe it was Walter petting him constantly, or being called simply “dog” by most of the men. He wasn't sure; he was just glad to be out.

  It didn't help that when Eleri finally showed up, she spoke to Cooper Rollins and then to Walter Reed and walked away. Simply leaving Donovan there.

  She'd let Walter lead Rollins through the nicely concealed hole in the chain link. It was generally kept jammed, so that it didn't
appear broken. But with a single tug at one of the sides, two curtains of chain link opened, allowing a person to hunch over and push through.

  It wasn't beautiful, but it did seem big enough for the guys with arthritis and bad knees. There were two that Donovan had met in his few trips 'inside.' The second, younger man was ravaged with cancer. Donovan could smell it on him, hovering under the lingering odor of cheap whiskey. He probably drank like a fish to subdue the pain. He wasn't long for this world by either estimation.

  As he watched Eleri walk away, pointing out the car to Walter and Cooper, she flashed the numbers '4' and '0' back at him. Forty minutes to get out of here. To get to the meet-up point they'd pre-designated.

  It had taken an hour.

  During that time, he'd whined and been let out through the break in the fence. This time, no one followed him; they'd simply watched him walk away. He’d turned the corner, arriving where he could hop into the back of the car unseen, and waited.

  When she finally picked him up, she was all apologies. "I had to get Walter and Cooper settled. Separately. And then get Marina in, and explain that she was to keep them there while I ran an 'errand.'" Eleri made air quotes, taking her hands off the wheel for a moment. He was almost afraid, but he was too ready to be out of this shape to start anything.

  Eleri just kept chattering. "I almost said I had to 'pick up Donovan' but that would have led to too many questions. Like, why can't Donovan drive himself?"

  Yeah, no opposable thumbs. He sighed.

  She heard him. "I know. But we're on it, and I'm trying to get you home."

  "Home" was a loose term. He hadn't had any real time at 'home' in a while now. To be fair, he wasn't sure it really was his 'home' any more. But he owned it and it was generally where his mail went. For now, ‘home’ was temporarily in West Hollywood, in a bungalow designed for a family.

  So he showered, trailed water through the hallway just because, and he put on slacks and a shirt that buttoned then thought better of looking too nice. He'd just been in there with these two. Though they didn't know it, he'd learned a lot. He'd even bitten Cooper.

  While he changed, he thought about telling Eleri to dress down, but then thought better of it. Her changing her clothes would be more telling than anything else.

  She was waiting in the car with the engine running. As Donovan climbed into the front passenger side this time, he saw she was eating a sandwich and his stomach growled. He was starving. Changing was metabolically taxing. He'd studied it.

  He'd studied himself.

  It took only a moment of looking at the sandwich as Eleri pulled out of the driveway and into traffic before he remembered he could speak now. It turned out he didn't need to. She reached into the middle console and pulled out a waxed-paper wrapped sandwich for him, too. He almost wept when she pointed to the can of soda she'd stashed for him. "You have to be hungry."

  He answered by chewing.

  They arrived at the Bureau building on Wilshire just before midnight. When they entered they found Cooper Rollins cooling his heels in one of the many chairs in an otherwise empty conference room. He'd already been left for an hour. A soda can sat crumpled by his hand; a bag of Doritos had obviously been bad and lay shredded around the table, the chips long gone.

  Eleri stuck her head in and managed a supremely apologetic look. "I'm so sorry this took so long, but I wanted to bring my partner by." She stepped into the room, motioning to Donovan, who put his hand out while she spoke. "His name is Donovan Heath, and he'll be doing some of the interviews. We just need your statement and I can't tell you how sorry I am that you had to wait."

  It was one of those things people didn't think about, and something Donovan was just learning. Sometimes you found what you needed and logistics got the better of you. Thank God Vasquez had come in and at least done the initial intake, checking backgrounds and such.

  Eleri interrupted his thoughts and Rollins' growing surly mood, "We'll be back as soon as we can."

  Then she took him across the hall and did the same with Walter Reed, this time finding Marina Vasquez still in the room, her laptop in front of her. But the other agent popped up and followed, the three of them convening in the hallway, deciding how to split things up.

  Vasquez, still holding her open laptop, was the first to volunteer information. "I checked both of them against ID. That is Cooper Rollins, or someone who looks very, very much like him and knows his military background. Walter," she said it with the kind of question one would of a woman named Walter Reed, "is actually Lucy Fisher. Her ID matches as do her injuries. I'm confident of ID on both of them. Do we make one of them wait?"

  Donovan shook his head. "I don't think we can. If either of them waits longer they’ll be a wasted witness. They'll hate us and start the interview even angrier than they already are."

  Eleri nodded and Vasquez failed to vote. For once he wasn't the lowest man on the totem pole. In fact, "I should interview Walter and you two should interview Rollins."

  Though she was bottom of the voting barrel, Vasquez had learned she was free to speak with the two of them. Donovan still got the impression that the L.A. Bureau didn't think much of her. Which was their loss. "Do you really think a full cross-gender interview is the right way? Two females interviewing Rollins?"

  It was a consideration. Donovan could see Eleri thinking it over, too. She turned to Vasquez. "Did you get the impression that Rollins was misogynistic? Or that Walter might not take to a male interview?"

  "No, it's just that you usually aim for something familiar. Like we did with Alyssa Rollins. There's almost zero familiar in that interview set up."

  "Ah. But I have some insight on Walter." He tipped his head to Eleri a little, indicating that she should listen to what he didn’t say. He'd had literally hours with the woman. The trick would be not to reveal anything she'd told her dog friend; Walter was sharp as tacks.

  Eleri nodded back at him and he saw Vasquez was no dummy either. She picked up on the exchange, but just as wisely held her tongue, just stood there looking back and forth, waiting on a decision.

  Eleri asked him if he needed any help with Walter, because she thought having Marina in with her, checking out local info, etc, was helpful.

  "I agree with that. I think Rollins is the more important witness. Hence, he should get two interviewers, and he should get the person who knows the case best. That's the two of you. Vasquez, do you have anything special on Walter Reed that I need?"

  "Oh yeah. You should both check out her record." With that, she hit a few buttons and turned her screen to them.

  Well. He knew his face reflected the new information, but he didn’t say anything. Just saluted the women, gathered the recorder Vasquez had already started with Walter, and a pad of paper, which was always kinder for notes than typing away. He figured Walter would be a paper girl. And he pushed his way through the door.

  "Walter Reed?"

  She nodded at him, her space cleaner than Rollins' had been. She looked not to have eaten the offered vending machine fare, or if she had, she'd cleaned up. Then again, she'd eaten while he was with her earlier in the evening, and given her service record, he'd bet she could turn her need for food off and on as a situation dictated.

  For a moment, he forgot she didn't know him and he awkwardly introduced himself. Donovan hoped it was endearing rather than off-putting. It was possibly the first time in his life he'd ever hoped he was endearing.

  "Your real name is Lucy Fisher?"

  She nodded, treating him as a stranger though she'd scratched him behind the ears just a few hours ago. He wanted to shudder all over, the feelings of being there coming back in a wave. But he was getting good at bottling it up. Again.

  Donovan fought a sigh. He'd worked so hard to get a life in which he didn't have to stifle these things. Yet, one call from the FBI and here he was again. He tamped it back down and focused on the woman across the table. "I've seen your record. It's quite impressive. You lost your hand and your l
ower leg to an IED?"

  She nodded, and though her tone wasn't arrogant, her words were proud and a bit ironic. "I'm a combat medic. A combat communications specialist. And a combat helicopter pilot. I'm combat injured. The only thing I'm not is a ‘combat veteran.’"

  Eleri walked into Cooper Rollins' conference room with Marina right behind her. "Hello, Officer Rollins. I'm so sorry we kept you waiting."

  They took a moment to sit down and while they did, she watched him. He didn't squirm or act nervous in any way. In fact, he didn't act anything at all. She wasn't used to interviewing people as well trained as she was, or better. He might see right through everything. Or he might turn the tables on her and she wouldn't even know it. Eleri was grateful that Marina was in this with her.

  She got right down to it. "I'm not sure what Agent Vasquez has told you, but we’re grateful you came in. We need any information you can give us regarding a series of murders. Anything will help."

  He paused, letting the room go silent. Eleri knew that trick and she waited, too.

  "Am I under arrest?"

  "Of course not." She answered quickly and with as much vehemence as possible to convey believably. She just hoped he didn't decide he needed to leave.

  Cooper Rollins only sat back and nodded, leaving Eleri faced with the decision of where to start. She rarely went into an interview without a game plan. But she'd been shoving food in her face, because going in with low blood sugar was worse.

  "Let me first tell you what we know. Then I'm hoping you can fill in some gaps." She leaned forward, trying to look as desperate as she was and trying not to look as though she were sizing him up to be the criminal at play.

  In short order, she walked through Ratz’s assassination, then Dr. Gardiner's, followed with sparse information about Vivian Dawson. Ultimately, she pointed out that they weren't sure Vivian Dawson had in fact died. But she was missing, and there was a person splattered on the inside of the Dawsons’ sitting room.

  "I knew Dr. Gardiner. I saw him for a while after I returned from Afghanistan." Cooper spoke the statement calmly.