Tough Justice: Countdown Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  “Thank you.” She turned to James. “Why don’t you have a quick look around? Make sure there are no nukes or fugitives here that we’ll kick ourselves later for not checking out.” She made a joke of it, but she wanted to be sure that there wasn’t anything dangerous here.

  “You’ll be okay?” James replied in a low voice.

  “Sure. I’ll be all right, won’t I, pops?” she said, looking at Grundy.

  He sighed again. “Sure. As long as you leave real soon.” He had the air now of someone who’d seen everything and done everything and was bored to death. “Sonny? Set her up.”

  Grundy junior’s attitude had shrunk since James had hit him, and then further after his father had promised that she’d be okay. Neither of them really looked like they had much to hide. Although clearly there was something. No one aims a gun at a fed without a good reason. Although in some of these outposts of civilization, people shoot first and ask questions later, especially when strangers come to call. He seemed almost eager to talk to her. “Everything’s in the Cloud, super easy. Everything’s dated with a different file for each day.”

  “Do you remember the date he came?” she asked.

  He took the mouse and highlighted three midweek dates. “One of these dates. Maybe. I’ll give it another try if you don’t find anything. Use the fast-forward function. It’s clear enough that you can see everything.”

  “Thanks, junior,” she said, taking a sip. “I mean no offence, but I’d feel much better if you were on the other side of the counter with your father, you know what I mean?”

  As if suddenly remembering that she was a dirty fed, he backed away from her and went to stand with his father. He stood next to him for a full two seconds before his father slapped a box of bug spray into his arms and nodded toward the shelves.

  She could hear James opening and shutting doors. Moving stuff around. Good. They were totally multitasking.

  About fifteen minutes in, she saw him. She looked around automatically to get James’s attention, but he was somewhere in the back rooms.

  Halpert walked into the store like he was walking into Walmart. Straight up to the counter, shook the elder Grundy’s hand and spoke to him. They chatted for a while. Turn around. Turn around. She wanted to see his face so bad. Wanted some kind of connection. Wanted to be sure she’d recognize him again, even if she saw him in the street. Turn around.

  He turned around, and her jaw dropped in shock.

  Chapter Four

  I am the enemy within.

  I am inside you.

  Inside your technology, inside your minds, making you crazy.

  He stretched his arms above his head and yawned.

  Then he pushed his shoulders back and rolled them. Damn motel chair was killing him. He laughed to himself. Every agency was after him and it was the chair that was going to cause his demise.

  Scratching his fake beard and rubbing his eyes, he wished he could take out his brown contacts and real-human fake facial hair. Nothing but the best for him. But—he couldn’t lie—it felt weird pasting some other man’s hair on his face.

  But he was a pro. As the past few days had shown him. He could run rings around those less-than-human FBI agents. One little message and they were all freaking out, calling their girlfriends and shit.

  Lara Grant, however, was a whole other specimen. She was a bonus. And bless her, so obsessed with her mother’s murder. It was almost cute. No it was cute. He’d hacked her home PC and found how much work she’d done off the books. Files and files of scanned information and leads she’d followed up when she was off the clock.

  He just couldn’t figure out if she was doing it by herself, or if her partner was helping her. It seemed a lot of work for one person. Were they intimate in other ways? They’d been no emails between them. In fact, Lara seemed to have no friends that she emailed. Like, at all. There was little more frustrating to a casual hacker. No naughty emails to read, nothing that could give him even the smallest glimpse into her world. Just her mother’s case. Which was fine. As long as it was an obsession of hers, he was golden. He had a plan. The “mother” of all plans. He giggled out loud. But even as he did, he didn’t feel the mirth. Maybe he wasn’t the Joker. Maybe he was some other super villain.

  Truth was, it had taken him five minutes to place an order to test the fragment of wood left behind at Anna Grant’s murder scene. Victoria Russo’s ID was like magic. People jumped whenever she asked questions or made a demand. He was almost sorry he outed her. He could have spent months using her cloned ID to get access to the FBI. As it was, he figured it’d only be a matter of days before they realized her ID was still in use and they nixed his access.

  He shrugged. It wasn’t like it was difficult to hack the system without anyone figuring it out, but the possibility of being caught was half the fun. It was no fun playing cat and mouse when the cat was so far behind. The closer Lara got to him, the more fun it was.

  And as soon as he knew that she was otherwise engaged, he was going to swing on over to her apartment and leave a gift for her.

  A gift that would blow her mind. He giggled to himself and rubbed his legs and hands together like a kid about to go to Disney. Swiveling around and around in the death-chair, he thought about the present he’d made especially for her.

  Buh-bye, Lara!

  He laced his fingers together and popped the bones until they clicked. He wondered what she was like. Really like. He guessed he’d find out as soon as she realized she was about to die. Isn’t that when they say everyone’s real character shows itself?

  His eyes stared at the blank wall and he imagined where his target board was located in his Retribution Room at home. He could visualize just where all his victims’ photos were. But after two years of planning and a year of execution, why were his eyes drawn to the very corner of his board? To his most recently discovered victim.

  Lara.

  The Lara who didn’t care about herself. Her illegitimate baby, her affair with a sociopath...well, a sociopath-light. Not in the same league as he was. Not even close. Casual violence was common, easy and lazy.

  He was on a totally different level. He forced people to confront their own demons, and if they didn’t, he loaded their consciences with an extra burden. It’s true, some of them had resisted, but then cracked when they realized just how many deaths they’d been responsible for. Those who hadn’t—and there were a couple—went back on his naughty list. He couldn’t wait to hit them again. Just when they’d think that they’d escaped justice. Just when they felt safe. Just when they were settling back into their routine. That’s when he’d exert his power.

  That’s when they’d be sorry.

  He cracked his fingers again, then plucked at his beard, just hard enough to feel the pull on his skin, but not hard enough to pull it off. It was a careful balancing act. As was his whole life.

  He swiveled in the death-chair again, the centrifugal force giving his back respite from the pain. In midspin, his PC beeped loudly. He started, and as he bolted upright, the seat of the chair hit the desk, and his can of diet Dr. Pepper jerked and toppled onto his keyboard.

  Jumping up he grabbed the laptop and held it on its end. The brown liquid dripped off onto the stained desk. Dammit. He strained to see on the screen what had triggered the alert signal.

  He wiped the whole damn thing on the dingy bedspread and flipped it upright. The screen was blank. That was the problem with touch-screens. It was a shame he’d had to leave his real control center, but he’d had no choice, obviously.

  With one hand he rebooted the PC, his other worrying his fake facial hair again. When he’d got the system back up and running, the alert sounded again.

  This time the dialog box said “GRUNDY FISHING AND HUNTING SUPPLY.”

  Cold trickled through his veins as he reali
zed what had happened.

  They’d found Grundy’s store about five days before he’d estimated they would.

  Anger started to build in his cool, calculating brain.

  * * *

  Lara looked in horror at the video footage. As soon as Grundy had disappeared into the back of the store, Halpert had turned to the camera and pulled out a large index card that said “HOWDY” written in Sharpie.

  Then he placed that facedown on the counter and pulled out another one.

  “YOUR LATE.”

  Was that really Halpert? They’d all thought him so smart. Maybe he just wasn’t book smart. Maybe that was something they could play with. Maybe he was insecure about his education level?

  “WATCH ME NOW.”

  He placed that index card on the counter and then held up his finger to the camera. On the end was a small SIM card, attached to a piece of clear tape. He then deliberately stuck it directly under the counter exactly below the index cards. Then he smiled and pointed at it theatrically with both fingers until Grundy came back. They made their transaction, and then Halpert turned to leave the store, pausing only to wink at the camera.

  His flippant actions reminded Lara with a stark reality that Halpert was really just a kid. A sociopathic, murdering, kid.

  She jumped up and crouched down to look under the front of the counter. It was still there. She peeled the tape off, and it fell into her hand like a gift.

  The store held the cheapest of all cheap pay-as-you-go phones in blister packs at the front of the store. Burner phones. Law enforcement’s arch nemesis.

  She used a box cutter to get into a pack and slipped the SIM card in the back of the phone, not caring about fingerprints. After all, they knew who he was already.

  She pressed the on button and shook it as if that would get it to boot up faster. She wanted to call for James, but didn’t want to share the discovery yet.

  She watched the screen as it found a network and settled into a blank screen. As she waited for something to happen, she wondered if Halpert was triangulating her position ready to blow the store up. Shit. That was actually a real possibility. What had she been thinking?

  She fumbled for the back to rip out the battery and the SIM, but before she could, the phone beeped. She nearly dropped it, and juggled the phone to regain control over it.

  Who is this? the text said.

  Lara hesitated. She knew this was Halpert. If she could get Christina on the line, maybe she could trace the phone.

  She’d left her cell by the computer monitor where she’d been watching the footage. She ran around the counter and grabbed it. Before she could press Christina’s speed dial number, the burner phone chirped again.

  Naughty, naughty, Lara. don’t do anything stupid now.

  How the hell did he know it was she? It could have been one of the Grundys, a random fisherman or anyone in the team or local police force. She took a breath and a chill went down her spine. He was watching her. She kept her eyes on the phone and smiled as if she were totally unconcerned, while her mind filtered the possibilities. Either he’d hacked into Grundy’s video feed—and she had no idea how easy or difficult that would be, or he’d left his own device here. That wouldn’t be a total stretch since the store wasn’t exactly well maintained. He’d asked who was on the phone, though, so whichever way he was watching her, the area where the burner phones were stocked must have been a blind spot.

  She leaned back in the chair and put her feet nonchalantly up on the desk where the video monitors were, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She kept a smile on her face and texted back.

  Oh, Halpert. How I’ve missed you.

  She bet he hadn’t expected that. She wondered if she could keep him talking but get James’s attention as the same time. “James,” she said loudly, without moving her lips. “James!” Even she had to admit that no one who wasn’t sitting on top of her would have heard that. She figured he’d come eventually.

  She waited for the response, which indeed was delayed. She liked the thought that she could put him at a disadvantage for once. Although that was what she’d tried to do in the office, and that had backfired on the whole team.

  I’ve missed you to, Lara. I loved watching you try to solve your mothers murder. Haven’t had much time recently, have you?

  Her eyes registered the misspelling of the word too, but her heart, and her brain fritzed under the realization that he’d been watching her work her mother’s murder. In her apartment. He’d been watching me. He’d been watching me.

  Don’t worry. I never saw you naked or anything.

  Her stomach roiled at the thought. Pins and needles danced in her hands and toes. Was that a symptom of shock? She couldn’t even remember. He must be bluffing.

  But I do have some evidence for you. Something that will help you solve the crime.

  Instantly she remembered the death position of Dan, the convenience store clerk. Halpert had been in her mother’s files.

  Suddenly Victoria’s parting shot about her ID being used, and Christina mentioning that Victoria’s name had popped up with regard to her mother’s murder file. The bastard had Victoria’s ID, or had hacked it somehow.

  He was bluffing. She’d been through all the files. There was nothing there.

  I found the weapon J

  Her heart raced. And her hatred of him seemed to expand in her body like lava overflowing a volcano. He was everywhere: in her apartment, her mind, her mother’s case, Victoria’s life. The invasion was total. The violation was complete. She wanted him dead. Him and his fucking smiley face.

  The burner phone wasn’t sophisticated enough to send a gun emoji. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the phone.

  I know you don’t believe me, but you’ll never know for sure unless you do as I say.

  She hesitated before writing back, and in that second of hesitation she knew what her answer would be. Nick had accused her of being a lone wolf, of never bringing in the team, or never confiding in him. And he’d been right. Every time it came up, she admitted that he was right. She just hadn’t been able to change. To let anyone in. To let anyone share the risk.

  This was her chance to get a foothold in her mother’s investigation. Anything that might lead her down a path that didn’t end in a dead witness, or a dead end. Her thoughts flickered to her father. The man he’d been before his mind and body had been ravaged by Alzheimer’s. The one who had shifted uncomfortably when she—as a twelve-year-old girl—asked him point-blank if he’d killed her mother. The one who looked at her for a second too long before denying it softly. As if the life had drained out of him as well as her mother.

  For years she’d wondered what her reaction would have been if he’d accused her of murdering his wife. She’d always come back to the same place. Anger. Determination to find the real killer. Devastation that someone so close to her could believe her capable of murder. But her father had exhibited none of those same reactions.

  She’d always been gung-ho to follow a lead, but always hesitating if it led back to her father. Her gut said he didn’t do it, but her gut had been so wrong the past few years, she didn’t know what to think now.

  Besides which, could she even trust what Halpert said?

  But, if she strung him along, they may be able to trace the phone.

  Lara, you can’t trace my cell phone unless you want to send a team to Ukraine. I’ll be in touch.

  Dammit. He was in her brain. Of course he wouldn’t be that easy to find. She was about to type a reply, when James emerged from the back of the building. “Nothing there, except one solitary marijuana plant. Hardly worth bothering with. Anything here?”

  She didn’t know what to say—for the first time in her life. His earnest face watched hers with an open smile. How could she lie to him? She had zero doubt t
hat he would back her. He always backed her whether she deserved it or not. He’d just lost his brother to this bastard, though. How would he feel if he knew she was texting him?

  She knew exactly how he would feel. Betrayed. Furious. She couldn’t bear the way he’d look at her. It was too late. She’d hesitated too long. Even if she came clean now, he’d know she’d contemplated not telling him.

  “There’s definitely footage of him here. Look. What a dick.” She hoped Halpert could lip-read.

  “What? Shit! What was there?” He leaped around to the other side of the counter and looked. “I can see where the tape used to be. Damn. It’s gone.”

  “I know,” she said, taking the opportunity to slip the burner into her pocket. “Could have been the Grundys, maybe? Could have been for someone else? Or it could have been for us and someone else took it?”

  James stood and stared at her across the counter.

  Could he tell she was lying? Should she come clean? Her heart squeezed as his head tipped to the side, and she realized he wasn’t really looking at her at all, but just going over the possibilities.

  “I don’t think it would have been the Grundys. There’s no way they would have resisted looking at the counter when we asked about him.” He grinned. “But I’m happy to interrogate them again.”

  “No. No. I agree with you. Let’s get back to the office.” She could hear a tremor in her voice, but James didn’t seem to notice.

  “No, man. We should get forensics out here. They can fingerprint the counter, the tape, at least we can see who got it—they could be in the system.”

  Jesus. What was wrong with her? She was so obsessed with solving her mother’s case that she’d forgotten about all that stuff. Her brain worked through the problem at lightning speed. No. If they found her prints, it would just be because she’d done the same as James, felt under the counter for the SIM card. What the hell was she doing? A chill permeated her skin despite the balmy weather. She was formulating lies to excuse her criminal behavior. Because that was exactly what her actions were: criminal.