What had he done with the money? Had he lived in a mansion and driven a Ferrari? Did he still have a shitload of cash in the bank? Another thought hit him. Had the judge’s wife known about the payoffs? How could she not? Had she freely spent the blood money too?
Luke dressed and gathered what he needed for the day: cell phone, gloves, van key, and business credit card to keep stashed in the vehicle. What else? Instinct told him to leave his ID at home and refuse to speak if he was arrested. But that wasn’t going to happen, he told himself. They’d done their homework, and they had the senator on the ropes.
A knock at his door startled him. He turned, taking a long breath to settle his nerves. Abby charged in. “Are you ready? This is going to be fun!” Her eyes danced with excitement. Before he could respond, she blurted, “This will be even better than skydiving or rock climbing, the ultimate adventure.” Abby bounced on her feet as she talked.
Luke had never seen her like this. “It’s not an adventure. We’re not doing this for fun. I hope this isn’t about the adrenaline rush for you.”
“Oh please. You get off on the danger too. We all do.”
He would never admit that, even to himself. “I’m having second thoughts about this mission. It crosses a line.”
Abby lunged toward him, her face contorted with anger. “Don’t you dare back out. This is our chance to take a giant step forward. Decriminalizing pot at the federal level is the cornerstone.”
He knew she was right. But he finally realized what was going on. Abby was high. She was using again. Oh god. She’d probably started after she’d bought that meth for the failed mission to plant drugs on the governor. “You’re blasted.” Luke sat down, feeling defeated. “I’m not sure we should do this while you’re high.”
“Don’t say that.” She softened her tone. “I would never use again. I just had too much coffee.”
“Okay.” He didn’t believe her, but there was no point in arguing. He headed to the door, rushed into Abby’s room and looked around. She was right behind him, shouting and pounding his back. “What are you doing? Get out!”
Luke didn’t see any obvious signs of drug use. No needles or cotton balls or small mirrors with a light dusting of white powder. But Abby was smart enough to hide them, and he didn’t have time to search every drawer and container. If they still planned to hit the senator’s house today during their narrow window of opportunity, it was time to leave. He spun around to face Abby. “This issue isn’t over. We’ll deal with it later. But if you’re using, you’ll have to leave. We’ll pay for rehab if we can.”
“There is no issue!”
“I hope not. Let Cree know he’s riding with you, then get in the van. I’m taking my own truck.” Luke pounded up the stairs and knocked on Tara’s door. She didn’t respond. He rapped it again. “Hey, it’s time. We’re leaving soon.” He moved next door to Aaron’s room and did the same.
Aaron opened the door a few inches, looking haggard, the gray under his eyes more pronounced. “I’m ready,” Aaron said. “I’ll be down in a bit.”
“Hey, did you find Judge Bidwell’s address for me?” He’d asked Aaron about it the night before but hadn’t indicated it was important. Now Luke was in a hurry to know.
“It’s in Silver Spring, 1652 Highland.” Aaron grinned through the narrow opening. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Good advice. Could he follow it? “Hey, have you seen Tara?” Luke glanced next door, expecting her to step out any moment.
“She’s with me.” Aaron shifted on his feet and glanced away. “We kinda hooked up, and she’s going to ride with me.”
What? A jolt of jealousy seized him. He’d thought Tara was into him. “That’s unexpected,” he finally said. “As long as she does her job as lookout on the other end of the street.”
“Don’t worry, she will.”
“Okay, but let’s roll.” Luke walked away, feeling more rattled than before. Tara and Aaron. He wouldn’t have predicted that in a million years. It must have been a pity fuck. Tara had felt sorry for the older guy because his days were numbered. Luke tried to forget it. He had to stay focused on the mission.
Downstairs, he filled a thermos of water and grabbed an apple from the fridge, then went outside. Abby and Cree stood next to the van arguing about who would drive. “Cree’s driving,” Luke announced. “End of discussion.” He snatched the keys from Abby’s hand. The van had been purchased with money from the private donor, but it was registered under Cree’s name. He’d bought the truck from Hana but left it in her name. Luke had never adopted an alias, but he was off the grid and didn’t use his name on any paperwork.
“Fuck you!” Abby climbed in the passenger’s side.
Another wave of doubt rolled over him. “Cree, I think Abby’s high. And I’m nervous about doing this mission with her.”
Cree’s shoulders fell. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s just adrenaline.”
“Possibly. But she’s been irritable and moody lately and we don’t really need her today.”
“Which is why I’m not worried.” His young friend shrugged. “Abby’s part isn’t critical. But we can’t back out. This is our biggest shot at a legislative change.”
“I just thought you had a right to know my concerns.”
“That’s cool.”
“Are the coveralls in the van?”
“Yes they are.” Cree put up his fist for a bump. “Let’s do this.”
Luke bumped back, then headed for his truck. After starting the engine, he looked up at the house. Were Aaron and Tara coming? Next to him, Cree backed the van out and started down the drive. Luke backed up too, watching the entry. The door opened and Tara stepped out. She saw him looking and gave a small wave. No smile though.
He waved back and shifted gears. Did Tara regret her hookup with Aaron? Maybe she was nervous about the mission too. Any rational person would be. He wondered how long Tara would stay with the group. Now that they knew they could trust her, it was time to let her get her car and move in a few more personal things.
Or maybe they should disband for a while after their big win today. The feds would double their effort to find them. And with their main donation cut off and Abby relapsed, it would be a good time to give up the farmhouse, go their separate ways, and lay low for a while. Luke decided to make the announcement that evening. He pressed the gas and followed the van down the driveway, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything felt wrong.
Forty minutes later, when he crossed the river into DC, he called Cree. It took the other driver a while to answer. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we should do this mission.”
A pause. “Are you afraid to go back to prison?”
Hell yes, he was afraid. “I just have a bad feeling about today. Too many things feel off to me.”
“Hang on a minute.” In the background, Cree told Abby what Luke had just said.
She responded loud enough for him to hear. “Too bad. We’re going anyway.”
Cree cut in. “I’m with Abby. We’re going ahead. Especially if Aaron and Tara still have our backs.”
“You’ll have to ask them. Tara is riding with Aaron.”
“I’ll call him now,” Cree said. Another pause. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to take the risk. None of us did ten years, and we won’t face the same sentence as you.”
The unspoken reality. Because he was mixed race and darker skinned, he would be punished more harshly. “Thanks for understanding. But I’m not afraid just for myself. I just don’t think we should do a home invasion. Because that’s what the feds will call it, even if it’s just a dog in the house.”
“I disagree. It’s a B&E at most,” Cree asserted. “The senator won’t even press charges if he wants to keep the child porn suppressed.”
Luke was done arguing. “It’s your decision. I’m out.”
A long moment of silence. “Are you going back home?”
; “No, I need some closure with Bidwell and possibly his wife. Be safe.” Luke hung up and set the GPS in his car to find the judge’s address.
Chapter 33
“You’re driving.” Aaron nudged her toward the car with the end of his handgun. Being at the wheel was good, Dallas decided. Her hands would be free, and she would be in control. She could plow his side of the vehicle into a tree at the first opportunity. Which might set off the bomb unless she managed to get out.
At the last moment, Aaron said, “I changed my mind, you’ll ride shotgun.”
Every nerve in her body screamed, Don’t get in the car! In college, when she’d watched thriller movies, she’d mentally yelled at anyone who climbed into a vehicle at gunpoint. Women especially—if the bad guy was a rapist or a serial killer and someone was nearby to call for help. People survived gunshot wounds every day. But no one survived an explosive going off under their jacket. And if Aaron used the gun, the bullet would enter her brain, killing her instantly. She had no options.
Aaron pulled a roll of duct tape from his bulky jacket and held it out to her. “Tape your wrists together.”
He had the detonator in one hand, the tape in the other, and the gun in his waistband. Was this her chance? Grabbing the detonator could set off the bomb. What would happen if she knocked it out of his hand?
“Don’t even think about it.”
As he spoke, she lunged forward, bringing up her forearm to slam into his. A searing pain sliced down her arm, stopping her momentum. Aaron yelled, “On your knees or I’ll cut your throat next.”
Blood gushed from her forearm, and Dallas gritted her teeth. Where had the knife come from? His sleeve? Not wanting to get stabbed again and left in the driveway to bleed to death, Dallas dropped down, gravel grinding into her flesh.
“Use the tape to stop the bleeding first,” Aaron commanded. “Then tape your wrists together. Do the best you can, and I’ll secure it.”
Dallas wiped the oozing blood on her pants to dry the five-inch wound as best she could. The cut wasn’t deep, but the pain would make her slower and more cautious, and that was his point. She wrapped the tape around her forearm a few times, then used her teeth to tear off the strip. Binding her own wrists was more challenging, but she kept the tape loose and left the roll hanging.
Aaron cut the roll free and pocketed it. “Get in the car.”
Dallas complied. He probably wouldn’t kill her until he was done using her, but she didn’t want to die slowly from a dozen painful injuries. She’d rather go out all at once, in a heroic move. And the most important thing she could do would be to take out Shawn Mortlock. Assholes who blew up government buildings were the worst of the worst. If she died right here, right now, Aaron might kidnap someone else and still be able to free his brother. If Shawn escaped, hundreds of citizens might die in his next attack. As long as she had breath and fight left in her body, she wasn’t going to let that happen.
Chapter 34
Drager checked the Real Food blog again, but Dallas hadn’t posted. It was time to head to Senator Pearlman’s house. Most of the team was already in place, and the three agents in the house had been there since before daylight that morning. Drager had been waiting to see if he would hear from his UC, but he hadn’t. He had to assume the takedown was still a go. If not, they would waste their time, but no harm done. Unless the inner circle changed their plans and struck somewhere else. Dallas would have warned him though—assuming that she could.
This time, when he entered the neighborhood, he parked across the street and two houses down, tucking in behind a big SUV. A few other cars surrounded the next house, and he hoped to blend with the family-car crowd. He was the last agent to arrive because his role was less critical. As the team leader—and the old man in the crowd—he was happy to let others play key parts, then go in after the fact to mop up. Drager shut off the car, rolled down the window a few inches, and scrunched low in the seat. At least the bureau still sprang for comfortable cars. The team had discussed using a fully equipped van, but it would have stood out anywhere in the neighborhood. Because the inner circle used a phony work van, they would have noticed it for sure.
The sky grew dark and the wind picked up. Was the first fall storm finally rolling in? They’d had a light rain on Monday, but the temperature hadn’t even dropped, so it didn’t count. Today was starting to look ominous. He hoped the activists didn’t have second thoughts and change their plans.
After a few minutes of waiting, his phone beeped and he glanced at it. A text message from Jocelyn, asking him and another person to run a license number. What was that about? Staying low in the car, Drager called the plate into his field office and stayed on the line until he got an answer. Hana Kasumi. Wasn’t that the woman who owned the farmhouse? His neck nerves tingled. She was in Japan, so who was driving the vehicle? Luke Maddox? And where had Jocelyn seen it?
He started to call but heard a loud V-8 engine coming down the street. A white van with blue lettering. This was it. He felt his heart beating in his throat. No matter how many times he’d done this over the years, confrontations still made him nervous. A man was behind the wheel of the van, but it wasn’t Maddox. The driver was younger with a narrow face and long straight hair. Cree Songchild. In the passenger’s seat was a woman. Tall and thin with short dark hair. Abby Gleeson. How many members were in the back? Would they bring another vehicle?
Drager clicked on his radio. “They’re here. Two in the front of the van, so far.”
“Copy that,” Agent Manning answered from inside the house.
Agent Wunn, who was walking the block with a stroller, came back, “Sorry I missed them.”
“We’re good.”
The van pulled into the Pearlmans’ driveway. For three long minutes, nothing happened. Drager’s lungs ached from holding his breath. Finally, the van doors opened, and the two people in front climbed out. They wore blue jumpsuits and leather tool belts. The van’s side door stayed closed. Drager touched his talk button. “They’re coming to the door. Two subjects. No obvious weapons.”
Where the hell was Dallas? And what about Maddox? Drager scanned up and down the street for a second vehicle and didn’t see anything new. Tension mounted in his chest, and he reached for his interior handle. He wanted to bust their leader more than anything. At the front door of the house, Songchild seemed to fiddle with something in his hands, then a minute later, the two went in. Drager bolted from his car and charged across the street.
* * *
The minute they were inside, Cree got a bad feeling. The house was spacious and beautiful and reminded him of the home he’d grown up in. Suddenly, it seemed wrong to be here. He grabbed Abby’s arm. “Let’s just get the dog and go. We’ll call the senator from the road.”
She jerked free. “We have to get his laptop too. We need the child porn pictures to keep him in line.”
Cree’s anger at Luke surfaced again. “We need another person.” Aaron and Tara had flaked off too, not even returning his calls. He couldn’t believe the whole damn crew had abandoned him. Except Abby, of course. She was loyal and true, even if she was using. More so than Luke. What had happened to him?
“We’ll be fine,” Abby countered. “I’ll get the dog, take some video, and call the senator, while you find the laptop. Let’s go.” She trotted toward the sound of whimpering in the back of the house.
Cree started after her. In the hall, he opened a door on the left, looking for an office or study, but it was a bathroom. At the end of the long hall, a woman with a small dog in her arms stepped out of a side room. “What are you doing here?” She seemed oddly calm.
Oh shit! The wife wasn’t supposed to be home. Cree reached for Abby’s arm to grab her and run. But Abby lunged forward, then pulled a gun from under her jacket. She pointed it at Mrs. Pearlman. “Give us the dog and the senator’s laptop!”
What the hell was she doing? Cree wanted no part of it. He turned to run. A man in a suit blocked his path. The age
nt also had a weapon, and it was pointed at his head.
“Hands in the air!”
Cree did as he was told. His parents would hire a great lawyer, and he would get out of this okay. Shouts echoed behind him. Moments later, a gunshot blasted through the hallway.
No! Instinctively, he dropped to the floor, his hands still above him.
Another suited man rushed in from the front of the house. “Who’s down?”
“The target,” a voice called out.
* * *
While a team agent cuffed Songchild, Drager rushed past them. The body on the floor at the midway point was Abby Gleeson. Thank goodness. Agent Manning stood over her, and Stella Pearlman was upright at the end of the hall, clutching the little dog. Why was she in the open? “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. A little shaky though. She had a gun. I didn’t know they would have guns.”
Drager mentally kicked himself. Why hadn’t he seen Gleeson’s gun when she climbed from the van? Was it his damn left eye? “We didn’t expect them to be armed either. Our intel indicated otherwise. I’m sorry.”
A third agent came pounding down a flight of stairs. “Everyone all right?”
“Yes.” Drager kneeled next to Gleeson and checked for a pulse. She was definitely dead. A young woman with a passion for the wrong things. He didn’t have time yet to process the full explanation for why it had happened on his watch.
“Where is the UC?” Manning asked.
“I don’t know.” Drager heard a hint of panic in his own voice. He turned to Cree Songchild, now in cuffs. “Where is Luke Maddox?”
The man swallowed hard. “I think he went to see Judge Bidwell’s widow.”
What? “To kill her?”
“No!” Songchild scowled. “No one was supposed to get hurt. I didn’t know Abby had a gun, I swear.”
“Where are Aaron Foster and Tara Adams?”
“I don’t know. They were supposed to be here.”
The Trap (Agent Dallas 3) Page 18