He cleared his throat. ‘I never did it, you know. Never went to college.’
‘You had a lot on your plate, what with the baby and all…’
‘Yeah. I thought about being a cop, but Monroe said to sit tight at Southside Storage. Told me he’d have an assignment for me soon.’
‘And did he?’
‘Not until the other week.’
‘You waited over two years?’ I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice.
‘Two years, five months and eight days.’
I had an idea of what the assignment was, but I needed to know for sure, to hear it from Clint without prompting. ‘And when your assignment came, what was it?’
‘Monroe sent me a photo. Told me to watch out for a man who’d escaped jail in Florida and was likely heading this way. His name was Gibson Fletcher.’
Monroe had Clint in position at Southside Storage two and a half years before he was needed. He’d made sure he didn’t leave, but had waited until Gibson had escaped before giving Clint any kind of job. ‘What day did he give you the assignment?’
Clint thought a moment. ‘July nineteenth. In the afternoon.’
I felt a chill creep up my spine and shivered in spite of the sun’s warmth. Gibson Fletcher escaped from the hospital on July twentieth. Clint had been put on alert a day earlier. There was an explanation, but it didn’t make sense: Special Agent Alex Monroe knew the prison break was going to happen before Gibson turned fugitive.
41
Never trust no one. Not even if they’re FBI.
I’d made the deal and taken the job to catch Gibson Fletcher, but now it seemed Monroe had known all along when Gibson was breaking free and where he’d be heading. I’d taken a chance, played the dice and hoped the odds would work in my favour, but Monroe had been playing me for a fool. The question was, why?
Back at my hotel, I reached for my cell phone and dialled Red’s number. Put it on FaceTime and hoped he knew how to work it. I needed to see a friendly face.
He picked up after six rings. His image was clear onscreen – his face still bruised, but the cuts healing. Behind him the ocean shimmered. He sat down on one of the deck seats. ‘Why’re you calling on video?’
‘I needed to see how you’re doing.’
‘I’m doing just fine, and you could have just asked me.’ He gestured at the screen. ‘You know I hate this stuff.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. Then I told him what I’d discovered about Monroe and Clint’s history.
Red was silent for a long moment, then said, ‘What’s your take on why Monroe wants Gibson so bad?’
I thought back to what Monroe had said about this job, and why he wanted Gibson Fletcher. It all seemed to centre around the gold chess set stolen ten days before Gibson’s arrest and bail for thefts on the vacationers’ yacht Sunsearcher. I’d been put on his tail when he skipped that bail, and ended up catching him. But I’d not got to him in time to save Patrick Walker and his wife from Fletcher’s attack on their luxury yacht. I now knew the package sent to Southside Storage had been despatched earlier in the day on which the Walkers were murdered. According to Monroe there’d been no sign of the chess pieces since they’d been taken, but any further information about them was need-to-know, and as far as Monroe was concerned I didn’t need to know.
‘I think it’s all connected to the missing chess pieces, but none of the facts fit together right.’
Red frowned. ‘Run me through them.’
‘Donald Fletcher allegedly sent the package to Southside Storage, but the signatures don’t match and Donald denies it. It doesn’t wash for another reason – the brothers were estranged by then and so there’s no sense thinking Gibson had any contact with Donald or knowledge of what he was doing. Yet whoever sent the package told Gibson where to find it, as he was the one who picked it up two and a half years later.’
‘So whoever sent it was in contact with Gibson and knew where he’d be heading if he got free.’
‘Yup. But Monroe told me he had no reason to believe Gibson Fletcher would go to San Diego. He’d sounded surprised when I told him about Gibson and Mia, and asked me to look into it. Now it seems he’s known all along. Why else station Clint Norsen at Southside Storage? He’d been in place over two years in advance of Gibson’s jailbreak, and Monroe briefed Clint to look out for Gibson the day before he escaped. Monroe could have had a tip-off about the bust, but surely he’d have had the hospital watched if that’d been the case; far easier to prevent Gibson running in the first place than trying to catch him once he’d gone.’
‘True,’ Red said, looking thoughtful. ‘Unless he wanted Gibson to run?’
I remembered the night I’d been attacked in the parking lot of my hotel, of how certain I’d been it was Gibson who attacked me, and how he’d leaned close and said, ‘Tell Monroe to leave me be. He owes me that.’
‘Why would he?’ I said.
‘That’s for you to find out, Miss Lori, but it’s not sounding good.’
‘Yeah.’ My head hurt. None of it stacked up. It was like adding two plus two and making thirteen. I crossed the room to the coffee-maker and made myself a cup of strong coffee.
‘What’s your next move?’
Oftentimes my way of dealing things was to go in straight, and I considered that in this situation, but something held me back. Sure, I could lay down the facts and have Monroe tell me how they added into something good and within the law, but I wasn’t convinced that would be the truth. I figured he was either keeping a bunch of things from me due to his ‘need-to-know’ way of working – in which case he’d been unlikely to share more anyways; or he was dirty and hiding facts to pervert the course of justice – which meant revealing my hand was at best stupid and at worse real-life threatening.
‘I need to know more before I tackle Monroe,’ I said. ‘Have you got anything I can use?’
‘Not yet. I stopped by Gibson’s ex-wife’s place out in Lake County, but there’s still no sign of her and her new husband. Looked like they’d not been there for a good while – the mail was stacking up in their mailbox – so I spoke with their neighbours. Nice couple, elderly, with time on their hands to watch and talk, if you know what I mean. They said they’d not seen Gibson’s ex-wife or her husband since the day his escape hit the news.’
‘That’s over a week. Is that typical for them?’
‘I asked that, and they said no. They also had a key to the place that they held onto in case of emergencies. So I asked them to open it up and I took a look around. The place looked neat, well cared for. Odd thing was that in the kitchen they’d left their breakfast all laid out on the counter – eggs, hash browns, bacon and pancakes – half eaten and abandoned. One of the coffee mugs had been tipped over, the coffee had pooled on the counter and dripped onto the floor.’
‘Signs of a struggle?’
‘Other than the coffee, nothing was messed up. It looked more like they’d left in a real hurry. All their clothes seemed to be in the closets, no obvious gaps. The neighbours had a cell number for her. We tried it, but it went straight to voicemail. They told me that’s unusual; she’s usually one of those types with her cell permanently in her hand.’
It didn’t sound good. ‘Before I might have told Monroe about it, but with what I’ve just learned I don’t want to give him any more information than I have to.’
Red said nothing for a long while. When he spoke, he sounded real serious. ‘You know, I’m thinking you should maybe head back here. Tackling an FBI agent who might’ve turned rogue, that’s real dangerous. Could be time to forget the deal. That’s what Tate told you to do anyways.’
Red was right, JT had told me to walk away at first. The irony now was that he’d accepted my deal with Monroe was his best shot at walking free.
‘Not an option,’ I said.
‘Then you need to be real smart. A man like Monroe, he’s got the resources and the law on his side even if he’s doing something bad. You go up against him
and fail, you’ll be running your whole life, or worse.’
‘I know.’
‘And you’re still thinking of taking him on?’
‘When I have the facts, yes.’
Red whistled through his teeth. ‘You know you might never get them. He’s going to have covered his tracks real careful.’
‘Then we need to look hard.’
Red was silent for a few beats. He looked deep in thought, then said, ‘I’ll do what I can from here, you know that.’
I nodded. I’d known Red wouldn’t fly out to California. ‘Can you try and get a copy of the CCTV from the prison Gibson was at? I need to see who was signing themselves in as Donald.’
‘I’ll do my best, but be careful, you hear? A lot of these federal types, they’ve got no honour, no kind of code.’
I felt the fear twist inside my belly. Ignored it. I was going to finish the job and get JT free, that was for damn sure. ‘I’m fine. I’m a long way from anyone who’s got my back is all.’
‘You got some folks there in California you trust to help you?’
I thought of McGregor. ‘I don’t trust easy.’
‘Maybe you need to try a little harder.’
Red was right. All I had was questions; a bunch of cards which added up to a busted flush. I needed to find someone with an ace.
42
The burner beeped. A message from Monroe:
Situation critical. McGregor refuses to work with you. I need Gibson caught asap, with or without you. I’m flying to San Diego in the am to take control. Meet midday at McGregor’s.
Shit. I’d known it was only a matter of time before McGregor spoke to Monroe, but now it’d happened the clock was ticking double fast. From what Monroe had said before, he reckoned he needed McGregor more than me; meaning if I hadn’t found Gibson before midday the next day, or was as close as dammit to doing so, I’d be off the job and the deal I’d struck with Monroe for JT’s release would be null and void.
Whatever concerns I had about Monroe and the stuff he was keeping from me, I couldn’t let that happen. JT and Dakota had to be my top priority.
I checked the time; it was 17:51. I had eighteen hours to finish this. I couldn’t rely on any help from McGregor; he’d made it real clear he didn’t want to see me again. But what Red had said about needing to accept help resonated. I needed to do whatever it took to bring Gibson in or, if that wasn’t possible, I had to get McGregor to let me back on the team. Either way, it meant I needed to pull in some favours.
The list of folks I could call on was short. Only two people I’d met came to mind: Mia Searle and Bobby Four-Fingers. I felt an affinity with Mia – we both knew violence at a man’s hand, we both wanted our messed-up families to be together, and she’d helped me before. But there was a danger there, too; she wanted me to help her get Gibson free, and although I’d said I’d take any evidence she found of him being framed to Monroe, given my objective was to bring Gibson in it was likely we’d ultimately be on opposing sides.
Which left Bobby Four-Fingers. He’d been kind towards me at McGregor’s bond shop, always respectful and helpful, and we’d had a laugh. The worst he’d done was not speak up when McGregor had gone for me after the failed raid in Mexico. I’d been angry about it, but now, having cooled off outside of the heat of that situation, I felt real bad that I’d ignored his calls and messaged apology. Because he’d tried to make a pick-up alone he’d been hurt. He hadn’t deserved that. I needed to go visit with him, make nice, and see if I could get him to help me.
*
I called Bobby and asked if I could come over. He’d agreed, although he hadn’t sounded super keen. He lived in a condo just off Park Boulevard over in East Village, close to the Gaslamp Quarter. It was a fine location, close to nightlife and amenities, and it was a clean building with a gym, a pool and a roof terrace. I parked the Jeep in the underground parking lot, and took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. From the quality wood floors and the flawless presentation I could tell the place was high end – far higher end than I’d have credited Bobby having the taste for. I felt bad for judging him. I also wondered where he got all his cash from; a place like this wouldn’t leave much change from two thousand bucks a month. The bounty-hunting business must be real good in San Diego.
I pressed the buzzer beside number 1417 and waited. I felt a little nervous waiting on him to answer the door. Knew how much I needed his help to persuade McGregor to let me stay on the team.
I heard the sound of bolts being pulled back and the door unlocking then Bobby opened it wide. I gasped at the sight of him, couldn’t help myself.
‘Shit, Bobby. What the hell did they do to you?’
He smiled. The bruising around his jaw made it look more like a grimace. ‘Pretty, aren’t I?’
I’d heard he’d been beaten but I hadn’t expected this. His face was mottled purple and red, one eye was completely closed from the swelling around it. He was stooped, one arm curled protectively around his ribs, the other bound in a white bandage and resting in a sling. He shuffled back to let me inside, a pronounced limp hindering his gait.
‘Why did they—’
‘They don’t like bounty hunters in Mexico. Occupational hazard.’ He hobbled through the open living space towards the kitchenette. ‘You want a beer, soda, tea or something?’
‘Soda would be great.’
Bobby took a beer and a soda from the refrigerator. Handed the soda to me before twisting the top off his beer one-handed. He took a long draw on it. Looked back to me. ‘It’s medicinal, you know.’
‘I bet.’ It was hard not to stare at his injuries. ‘I should have been there. I’m sorry, truly I—’
‘You should have, but you weren’t and I decided to charge in alone.’ He chuckled, then winced and pressed his arm against his ribs. ‘Guess a bit of your gung-ho style rubbed off on me.’
‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’s okay.’ He took a gulp of his beer. Narrowed his eyes. ‘So now we’ve got the apologies out the way, what’s it you wanted to talk over?’
‘McGregor won’t work with me anymore. Monroe’s flying out tomorrow to take control of the operation. If that happens I’m screwed.’ I told Bobby the bare bones of my deal with Monroe. ‘If I don’t catch Gibson before Monroe arrives, he’ll work with McGregor and I’ll get cut out. That means my ex-mentor will get convicted of multiple homicide, maybe even get the—’
‘Okay, I get it. So what do you need from me?’
‘I need you to persuade McGregor that he should keep me on the team.’
Bobby shook his head. ‘I don’t got that kind of sway over him. The boss is mad at you, thinks you’re a liability. I can’t see him changing his view anytime soon.’
I cursed under my breath. ‘Because he’s a sexist prick – I’m sick of the way this business treats—’
‘You know, momma, McGregor isn’t a bad guy.’
I frowned. ‘Could’ve fooled me.’
‘Look, I know the two of you don’t get along so good, but it’s not a personal thing or a woman thing, it’s—’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘You think? Sure seems like it is from this angle.’
Bobby took a swig of his beer. ‘You told him he never gave you a fair shot, but from the way I saw it you never gave him much of chance, either.’
‘I gave him plenty.’
‘No, you didn’t. You got mad at him and all, but you didn’t talk to him about his concerns. If you had it could’ve—’
‘So you’re saying it’s my fault?’
Bobby held his good hand up in mock surrender. ‘Not saying it’s anyone’s fault. I’m just saying if you knew him a little more you might have cut him some slack.’
‘Is that right?’ I glared at Bobby. I wanted his help for sure, but this men-sticking-together bullshit was making me mad. ‘Why don’t you tell me why I should have done that?’
Bobby sighed. ‘It’s not my story to tell.’
‘Well … shit. Thanks for the soda. I’ll see myself out.’ I turned to go.
‘Momma, wait.’ Bobby gestured to the couch. ‘Look, take the weight off. Chill. I guess it’d be okay to tell you; might stop all the fighting.’
I narrowed my eyes. Undecided.
Bobby walked to the refrigerator and took out two beers. ‘Ditch the soda. Have this, and listen up.’
I took the beer and sat down on the couch. ‘Okay. Shoot.’
Bobby perched on the edge of the bed. ‘McGregor used to run the business with his wife, Talisha. They set it up together after coming out of the army. Things went well. They got a good rep and a lot of business, started expanding the team. Took me on after I’d retired as polis.’
‘Okay, then what? She ditch him? Is that why he’s so bitter?’
Bobby’s expression got all serious. He shook his head. ‘Back then we hunted alone or in pairs. Talisha was the best of us – had a knack for finding the trickiest skip traces.’ He smiled. ‘She was one of those people you opened up to. Everyone did – made her real good at getting information.’
I took a gulp of beer. ‘And?’
‘Meant she worked on her own a lot of the time.’ He sighed. ‘She was alone the night she got jumped. Bunch of guys took her – gangbangers whose mate she’d pulled in a few days earlier. They held her captive for ten hours. Took turns with her – rape, beating…’ Bobby swallowed hard. ‘Filmed it all and sent it to McGregor.’
Shit. ‘What happened to her?’
‘Her body washed up on Torrey Pines Beach out near La Jolla a few days later.’
I felt sick to my stomach. ‘How did he cope?’
‘He didn’t. Cops found the men eventually, locked them up. But it made no difference to McGregor. He took it all on himself, convinced it was his fault she’d been caught, that they’d violated her. She’d been almost four months pregnant with their first child. He lost them both.’
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