“It’s regarding your recent time spent with Deputy Marshal Mitch Knox.” Mitch’s name caught Cody’s attention. His heart jerked in his chest, and he stepped out the door, locking the deadbolt as he followed the agent downstairs.
“Has he done something?” Cody finally asked as he got on the elevator. Agent Langley remained stone-faced. The man never said another word.
Mitch ducked his head, moving quickly through the crowd of people, trying to find a quiet place. He shoved a finger in his ear and concentrated. He could hear all of Cody’s conversation and that voice talking to him was familiar.
Frustrated beyond belief, Mitch ducked into an airport gift shop and found the back door. He went through, even at the protest of the clerk, and listened closer to the conversation. When he realized what he was hearing, his heart slammed in his chest. He’d heard that fucking voice before.
Thinking quickly, he activated the recorder on his phone and ever so carefully dialed a three-way call to include Aaron, praying the man picked up. If he didn’t, at least the voice would be recorded.
Karma was on his side. Aaron picked up on the third ring. Mitch started talking before he said hello.
“I’m recording this call. Can you detect the voice?” Mitch asked quickly and efficiently.
“Give me a second,” Aaron said.
He palmed his wallet and waited as he listened. The clerk or security would be through that door any minute. He needed them to remain quiet and step away, so he held open his wallet, showing his badge, ready for when they walked in.
“I’m hooked up. Can you narrow the voice down? Have you heard it before?” Aaron asked.
“Its recent, and he said he was CIA.” Mitch specified, trying to listen and talk at the same time.
“Did he use a name?” Aaron asked.
“I didn’t catch it. He hasn’t said it again. They’ve gone silent,” Mitch whispered. He concentrated hard on keeping his cool as the panic began to set in. He could think of no reason the CIA would need to talk to Cody about him. Fuck if the panic didn’t accelerate.
“All right, I need the recording from your phone. I didn’t get enough,” Aaron said.
“He’ll speak again. Can you trace the call?” Mitch asked.
“Sure,” Aaron answered. Mitch could hear typing as well as Cody walking. He was leaving the apartment. Everything in his heart didn’t want Cody leaving that building with the guy.
“He’s in downtown Austin. It looks like an apartment building,” Aaron said.
“It’s his place.” As Mitch had expected, security entered the small room. He kept his arm held out with the badge for them all to see. There were three or four of them, but Mitch kept his head down, listening to anything said, but still watching the guards. After a second, he lifted his finger to his lips and shooed them from the room.
Cody stepped out of his building and the brightness of the sun blinded him. He shaded his eyes and looked around the parking lot. Only then did he realize he still wore Mitch’s suit jacket. He felt a little bit like a fool as he followed the agent to a car backed into the farthest parking space in the lot. The car had federal-issued written all of it. He assumed the vehicle was probably an old Buick, something along those lines.
“You’ll need to ride in the back,” the agent instructed.
“What’s this about, now?” Cody asked again, because he couldn’t get past the fact that something about this whole scene didn’t feel right.
“You know the drill. We’ll talk downtown,” he said, opening the back door.
The agent extended a hand, stepping back after opening the door. Cody stood there, staring at him and finally followed directions only because if he’d been on this assignment, he’d hate getting shit from the guy he had to bring in.
Cody ducked his head and angled his big body into the cramped backseat. After both legs were inside, the agent shut the door after him.
“Good, faggot,” Agent Langley hissed loud enough for him to hear through the closed door. Cody’s nagging doubt turned to full-fledged panic as he tried to bolt. His reactions were quick, but the door couldn’t be opened from the inside. He slammed against the door and searched outside for the guy, trying to keep his eyes on the agent. Glass separated the front and the back seats, making a quick escape impossible. He couldn’t give up, he needed to find a way out of this car.
Cody angled his body to ram his elbow into the window. Only then did he see the flash of metal as the sun caught the gun barrel being aimed his way. Shit! Cody went for the dive, but he was too late. The first bullet struck him somewhere in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs as glass shattered around him. He was forcibly shoved backward, slamming into the back of the seat. The second bullet ripped through his shoulder, and the searing pain rendered him powerless.
Cody fell to the side. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, and the pressure in his chest was excruciating. His body wouldn’t cooperate. He tumbled forward, and picked up a faint clicking noise from underneath the vehicle. The darkness began, filling in from the sides. Shit, his vision blurred. Mitch and his family filled his thoughts. The lack of oxygen proved too much. The darkness took him.
“Fuckin’ shit!” Mitch bolted up, yelling at Aaron. “Where is he? Where the fuck is he?”
“He was still in the parking lot when the phone went dead,” Aaron said. Mitch heard the intensity in his tone, and Aaron was slamming the keys to his keyboard as he typed. “Hang on, Mitch. I’m patching you through to 9-1-1.”
“What’s your emergency?” Mitch heard a dispatch officer say. On the need to get to Cody, he was up and out the door. Airport security had stayed close by, no doubt trying to keep an eye on him. Whatever the reason, he was thankful to see them. He needed immediate help.
“I’m Deputy US Marshal Mitch Knox. I’ve been on a telephone call where a local state trooper in Austin, Texas, is being kidnapped. I believe there were shots fired,” he told the dispatcher a little desperately before turning to the airport security. “I need a ride.”
“My truck’s outside,” the security guard said.
“Do you know the address of the incident?” she asked. Aaron, who was still on the call, spouted out the information he’d gotten before Cody’s phone went dead.
“They made it outside his apartment complex. Cody was loaded into a vehicle when I heard a possible shot and the phone went dead,” Mitch added. He could feel the panic taking over, making him helpless. Shit, he was so fucking worried about Cody. He forced himself to remain calm. He had to use his head, think rationally, when all he really wanted to do was scream.
“We have officers on their way. Can you identify the trooper involved?” the dispatcher asked.
“His name’s Cody Turner,” Mitch answered and stumbled as he said Cody’s name. Fuck, what had happened? And his next most immediate thought was how he’d just found Cody. No way could he lose him now. That sent a crashing blow to his heart.
“Oh no,” the woman finally said. For the first time in this conversation, she left the standard communication dialog she was required to give to each caller. He could hear her advising the officers en route to the scene. “Sir, my boss is taking over the call.”
Thank god the security guard ran. Mitch followed, ducking around to the arrivals entrance. The airport security’s white truck sat right out front. Mitch entered on the passenger side and then thought better. He scooted all the way over, taking the driver’s side before the guy made it to his side of the truck.
“I’m driving, get in. I need your phone.”
Mitch activated the speaker and dropped his phone on the dash as he waited for dispatch to continue the call. He started the truck and took the phone being offered by the security guard. He dialed Cody’s number and pushed send.
“You keep pushing this number until someone answers,” Mitch said, giving the guy a hard, no-nonsense look. Seconds later, he peeled out of the parking space, taking corners faster than he should.
“I’m at the airport. I need an escort to the scene. I’m heading south leaving terminal…” Mitch looked around. “Where the fuck are we?” Mitch bellowed. The fucking guy should have seen he had no idea where he was. What the fuck!
“Terminal C,” the guard said. “Still no answer.”
“Terminal C. I’m heading south,” Mitch advised.
“Just a moment,” he heard the new dispatcher say. “All right, we have an officer en route to you. What are you driving?”
“A white F150. It’s airport security,” the passenger answered loudly for Mitch, totally redeeming himself. In a softer tone, he said again, “Still not answering.”
“Fuck!” Mitch yelled, the anxiety of the uncertainty was getting to him. He couldn’t lose Cody. Not now. Had he just listened to Cody’s last few minutes alive? His mind spun out of control. Had he heard Cody being killed? There was no way he knew that for sure. Colt survived the attack, so had the Greyson kid, Mitch reasoned, trying to calm himself. He refused to consider that neither of those men had been shot at point blank range. Mitch said a silent prayer, begging for Cody’s life.
“Deputy Marshal, there should be a patrol car on you at any minute,” the new dispatcher informed. An Austin PD patrol car pulled up beside Mitch and pointed forward through the window. Mitch nodded. The officer turned on the sirens and punched the vehicle forward. Mitch did the same as they flew through the streets of Austin toward Cody’s complex.
Mitch pulled into the entrance of Cody’s apartment complex where the gates were now draped with yellow crime scene tape, marking the area off. The officer that stood at the entrance, keeping everyone out of the parking lot watched him, yelling as he motioned him to move on.
Mitch threw the truck in park and got out, still gripping his phone, and he worked his wallet out of his jeans. The officer was on him, but he held his badge in the guy’s face, ignoring him completely. He forced himself to concentrate, to focus on Cody, not the havoc that now stole his coherent thought.
Mitch passed the indignant tenants littered along the sidewalk who stood outside the iron rod fencing. Officers from every single area of law enforcement agency were on hand. For Mitch, they were a clusterfuck of people, but when one of their own was hit, things turned out like this.
The dread that consumed him had his brain going numb. He could feel himself going into survival mode. His body’s way of protecting him from the news it was about to hear.
“Deputy Marshal Knox, I’m Sergeant Johnson. I was first to arrive.” The officer met him a few feet inside the gate and walked him toward a car. Mitch assumed this was where they’d found Cody. From this vantage point, he didn’t see anyone inside the car. Generally that was a good sign, right? It had only taken him twelve minutes to get here from the airport. Officer Johnson slowed, but Mitch was having none of that. All the vehicle doors were open, but everyone stayed several feet away.
“What’d you find?” Mitch finally asked the question he’d been dreading. He went for the car, bracing himself just in case Cody’s body was still inside. The officer stopped him, and Mitch reared back to punch the guy.
“There’s a clicking noise. We think there’s a bomb attached to the undercarriage. The bomb squad’s on their way.”
“There isn’t a bomb. He just used that method on his last victim. He wouldn’t do it again so soon,” Mitch said distractedly, pulling out of the hold the officer had on his arm. He centered into himself as he glanced inside the front seat and then to the back. The car was empty except a massive blood stain on the rear seat and floorboard.
“Where is he?” Mitch finally asked, so relieved he hadn’t walked up on Cody’s dead body.
“They took him to University Medical,” the officer said. He’d stayed several feet away, clearly not convinced of Mitch’s explanation.
“What are his injuries?” Mitch questioned, surveying the blood stain. He’d seen far worse, but never from someone he loved. He steeled his heart for the answer and closed his eyes.
“No one’s told you?” the officer asked, clearly surprised. Mitch didn’t answer; he just waited as he gripped the frame of the car for support.
“Turner’s cell phone saved his life. He was shot at almost point blank range. The cell was in his front shirt pocket and took the hit.” Mitch stopped listening and dropped his head in his hands. He bent over, trying to fight back the overwhelming relief flooding his body and to keep from hyperventilating.
The tears he’d been holding back broke free. He bent his knees and dropped down, crying in earnest now. Cody had lived. How was that even possible? After a minute, he felt something at his shoulder and glanced to the side to see a handkerchief being handed to him. Sergeant Johnson had braved the supposed bomb to help him out. Several moments passed as Mitch gathered his composure and pulled himself together.
“Why do you think there’s a bomb in here?” Mitch finally asked after he dropped his sunglasses in place to help hide his red-rimmed eyes.
“The clicking sound was going off when we arrived. It was only because it was Turner that we went near the car,” the officer said, standing at a distance again.
“You better be fuckin’ glad you went after him,” Mitch mumbled.
“Say it again, I couldn’t hear you,” the officer yelled back.
“Nothing.” Finally Mitch turned his attention back to the car. “The supposed bomb misfired is your guess?”
“What else could it be?” he shot back, a little defensive. Mitch lowered to his knees, looking under the car. There was nothing there. Then he went to the front of the car, pulled the lever to pop the trunk and headed to the back of the vehicle. Against the officer’s advice, he lifted the trunk. Fuck.
“You got another body in here,” he yelled out. He ignored the foul smell of death and looked around without touching anything. “No bomb, but he’s been in here a while. The ticking’s coming from him. I need to know the specifics when you ID this guy.”
“Shit,” the officer declared, immediately tapping his chest as he began talking to headquarters.
Mitch forced himself to consider the case. Cody was alive, and this had officially become ground zero. What had made the killer come here? The obvious answer seemed to be the only one that came to mind—this was a message to him. But even more importantly, why now had he done such a sloppy job?
Blinding rage at your sexual orientation, echoed through his mind.
Mitch looked around the parking lot, then at the building. “How much surveillance do you think’s pointed this way?”
“The city’s covered. That’s one thing we’ve done right,” the officer said as the bomb squad approached the car.
“You need to stay behind the line until we’re done surveying the vehicle.” Mitch ignored them completely as he looked out toward the road, trying to identify the cameras. Sergeant Johnson followed behind him, keeping one eye on Mitch and another on the car.
“You didn’t ask, but Officer Turner was also shot in the shoulder,” the officer said quietly. “We aren’t supposed to give that information out. They’re keeping this on the DL. I guess because of you guys.”
“Was he conscious?” Mitch asked, palming his phone to call Aaron.
“He wasn’t when he left here,” the officer said, stepping back behind the imaginary line the other officers maintained. All eyes were on the team at the car.
“Who’s heading up this investigation?” Mitch probed.
“I’m not sure yet. I was first to arrive. It’s mine right now, but my direct supervisor’s en route,” he said.
“All right, give him my card. I need to talk to him. I’m working with the FBI on a special assignment. I need that car kept together.” The officer kept his eyes forward, watching the bomb squad work as he tucked Mitch’s card in his pocket. “I need a ride to the hospital.”
“Parks, take him t
o University,” the officer called out, still staring at the vehicle. It was only then that Mitch remembered he’d called Aaron.
Damn, he needed to pull his shit together. Cody needed him on his A game right now.
“Are you there?” Mitch asked into the phone, following Officer Parks to his squad car.
“Yeah, I’ve got Connors on the phone. I identified the voice and didn’t know who else to call when you didn’t answer. Hold on, let me connect us,” Aaron said.
“Connors, Knox, you both there?” Aaron asked.
“Yeah,” they said, pretty much in unison.
“Did you tell him?” Connors immediately asked.
“Not yet. Mitch the voice ID is coming back a match for Special Agent Peter Langley. He’s not Central Intelligence. He’s Secret Service, and he was also the one on the Greyson detail,” Aaron said.
“We interviewed him. He’s flagged, but his alibis held up,” Connors said.
“Fuck, do we have any idea where he’s at?” Mitch asked, getting in the passenger side of the patrol car.
“I’ve got a team forming now to head to his house, but my gut says that he’s there in town with you,” Connors stated.
“Who all knows this? I don’t want him to go into hiding before we get him,” Mitch responded, buckling in.
“We have to act. He’s attacking you personally now,” Connors said.
Mitch went silent. This was completely personal, a message straight to him. Langley had to have been watching him, and Mitch never noticed. Think!
“Okay, we think he works alone and leaves town after each strike. We’ve gotten nowhere in the cases, and he knows that. At some point, he’d get cocky and arrogant—we know that. Now is that time, he’s gotten careless.”
“True, but does he know he didn’t complete the job?” Connors asked.
“How do you know he didn’t complete the job?” Mitch questioned him, worried.
“I checked. It was me,” Aaron replied. “Connors is the only one I’ve told. I know to keep that on the DL.”
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