Secrets of the Lynx

by Aimée Thurlo

  “Okay, let’s get rolling then.” Kendra dialed the hotel and got Thomas after three rings.

  Though it was difficult, she kept her voice steady and businesslike. “Miller’s in custody,” she said. “The local P.D. is questioning him now. Miller has told them that he’s working with a partner inside the marshals service, but we don’t have a name yet.”

  “Where’s he being held? He’s not in the hospital. I checked,” Thomas said.

  “For his own protection, I had him moved to an Arizona clinic,” she said, deliberately misleading him. “He’s still under heavy guard.”

  “You shouldn’t have acted without my knowledge,” Thomas snapped.

  “It’s my case—my fugitive.”

  “It was your case. Now it’s mine.” He stopped short, then, after a moment, continued. “Get over here. We’ll talk about the evidence you’ve gathered and see where the case stands.”

  * * *

  KENDRA AND PAUL arrived at the motel ten minutes later and went directly to Thomas’s room.

  Kendra sat on one of the chairs placed by a round table near the window.

  “The evidence is sketchy, Evan,” she said. “We have the name of the gun shop where the carbine and ammunition were purchased. The purchaser didn’t notice a receipt lodged under a flap in the paper bag, apparently. We pressed the business owner for more details but apparently one of his younger clerks made the sale and can’t recall the buyer. The clerk is reviewing hours of video, so once he identifies the guy, we’ll have more.”

  “Miller probably wasn’t the one who bought the weapon and ammo, so you could be on a wild-goose chase.”

  “If his employer or partner provided Miller with what he needed for the hit, it’s possible we’ll recognize him once we view the feed.”

  Thomas stood, idly adjusted the sling on his wounded arm, and stared at an indeterminate spot across the room. Paul also remained standing, positioned beside Evan’s carry-on bag, which was on the carpet, unzipped. “I’ve kept you out of the loop as long as possible, but now I don’t have a choice. There are things you need to know, Kendra.”

  Thomas looked at Paul.

  “He’s been deputized,” Kendra said, “if that helps.”

  Evan nodded. “What I’m about to say can’t leave this room. Am I clear?” he said, looking at her, then at Paul.

  “All right,” Kendra said, then saw Paul also nod. He raised an eyebrow, as well, signaling that he’d deployed the first listening device. She guessed it had been tossed into Evan’s open luggage.

  Thomas had other things on his mind. “If Miller’s talking, some of the things he’ll say will eventually point back to me as his inside man. He’s never seen my face, but if he made a recording of any of our conversations, voice identification software might also identify me.”

  “Are you admitting guilt?” Paul growled, taking a step closer to the supervisor.

  Thomas held his ground. “You’re off base, Grayhorse. I’m not the bad guy here.”

  “Yes you are.” Paul moved like the wind, and in two seconds Thomas was pressed against the wall.

  “You’re interfering with a federal investigation, and you’re going to blow my whole case. Back off—now,” Thomas ordered, undaunted.

  “What investigation?” Kendra forced herself between the two men, one hand on the back of Evan’s collar and the other on Paul’s forearm. “Back up, Paul.”

  Evan turned around. “I’ve been working undercover for nearly a year, worming my way into a criminal network that covers half the country.”

  “And selling out my partner and me was part of your job?” Paul snarled. “Nice try.”

  “What happened to you and your partner wasn’t part of the plan,” Thomas said. “That’s the truth.”

  “I should be able to verify all this,” Kendra said, picking up her phone. “Who’s your department handler, Evan?”

  “There’s no way I can tell you that. I’ve got reason to suspect there’s another informant in our office, one we’ve yet to unmask. Lives are at stake here, not just careers.”

  “So we’re just supposed to believe this undercover story you’re selling?” Paul said, moving in with clenched fists.

  Kendra got in his way again, forcing Paul back.

  “If you go off half-cocked, Paul, you’ll destroy months of undercover work. Judy died at the hands of these jerks. Are you going to let it be for nothing?” Evan said, his eyes on Paul.

  Paul lunged forward, his forearm at Thomas’s neck, pinning him to the wall, but he avoided touching Evan’s injured arm this time.

  “Stop!” Kendra snapped. “Enough with the testosterone.” She took hold of Paul’s shoulder and eased him back again. “Let’s sit down and reason this out.”

  Evan sat on the edge of the bed, then ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “After the attempt on the judge that resulted in the death of Deputy Marshal Judy Whitacre, I began to suspect that the Hawthorn cartel had a well-placed informant in our office. We’d taken every precaution, yet they still managed to have a sniper in position to make the attempted hit.”

  “Did you report your suspicion?” Paul demanded.

  “I had no evidence, and you don’t bring up something like that unless you can make the case. To get the proof I needed I knew I’d have to go undercover,” he said. “I eventually earned the cartel’s confidence by passing along information, but it was always the kind I knew we could afford to lose.”

  “Like the fact that I was here in Hartley, and setting me up as Miller’s next target?” Paul growled, his eyes cold and without expression.

  “No. I never gave them your exact location. I also made sure you had one of our best marshals on the scene in case things got rough. That’s the real reason I sent Kendra to retrieve Miller.”

  “You tried to discredit me when I reported that the cartel had an informant. Yet you knew I was right,” she said.

  “There was no way you could have accomplished what I could as an insider, so I protected my cover. All you would have done was get yourself killed, and you would have never even seen it coming. By sending you down here I gave you both a chance.”

  Paul stood, rock still, staring at Thomas. “You spin a nice story, I’ll give you that, but it’s nothing more than a skilled evasion unless we can verify it.”

  “Take a look at the facts. I never gave Miller your exact location, but he still found you. That proves the cartel has another well-placed source on the inside. Unless we ID that person, we’re all in danger,” Evan said. “My life is already on the line. The cartel suspects I’ve been playing them because my information is always missing key details. This is my last chance to finish what I’ve started.”

  “But if you’ve been compromised...” Kendra started, pointing to his arm.

  “This wound is precisely why I’m still alive. I offered to take a bullet from the cartel’s sniper. I convinced them that would help my credibility at the marshals service and allow me to continue to feed them information. That also proved my loyalty to the cartel since I was trusting them with my life,” Evan said. “It was a calculated risk, of course, but I’ll have more room to maneuver now and be able to penetrate deeper into their organization.”

  “You’re asking me to trust you, but you’ve given me absolutely no proof of anything,” Kendra said. “All I’ve got is your word.”

  “Do you really want to risk everything by sticking to protocol now?” Evan said. “I’m ready to make my move. Let me finish this.”

  “All right. I’m listening. What do you have in mind?” Kendra said.

  “A large weapons stash is going to be shipped across the border into Mexico any day now. Garrett Hawthorne is going to be there himself to supervise the operation. If we raid the place today, we can prevent those guns from ever leaving the warehouse. We’ll also be able to collar Garrett with enough evidence to put him away for life.”

  “Or we could be walking into a trap,” Paul said.

/>   Thomas looked at Paul, then back at her. “If I’d been working for the cartel, I could have taken either of you out long before now. I knew where you were and could have brought you into the open easily enough.”

  “Where’s this warehouse?” Kendra asked after a beat.

  “I don’t know for sure yet, but it’s local. I’m supposed to link up with one of Hawthorn’s soldiers, get the location from him, and then go meet Garrett.” Thomas checked his watch. “Crap, I’m already fifteen minutes late. I’m supposed to drive to Spencer’s Superstore and meet him in the parking lot.”

  “Take one of us along,” Paul said.

  “No, that won’t work. They don’t like strangers, and they hate surprises of any kind.” He paused for a few seconds, then continued. “What you can do is track me all the way via my cell phone’s GPS. As soon as I get the warehouse’s location, I’ll text you with a quick single character, lower case k, as in okay. Stay out of the area until you get my signal, then make your move. Avoid using SWAT because their arrival is sure to tip off any spotters keeping watch on the neighborhood. Also, after it all goes down, make sure you take me prisoner along with the rest. That’ll protect my cover.”

  * * *

  PAUL WALKED OUT with Thomas while Kendra reported to Preston and brought him up to date.

  “I’ll deliver on this, don’t worry,” Thomas said.

  As they reached the rented sedan, Paul suddenly grabbed Thomas and threw him against the driver’s side front fender. “If you set us up, there’ll be no place on earth where you can hide from me. I’ll find you.”

  “If I’d wanted you dead, Grayhorse, you would have been a corpse already. Let me go.”

  Paul stepped back and allowed Thomas to get into the car.

  As Paul turned to walk back to the motel, he wiped away the dust and road grime from the fingertips on his left hand. While roughing up Thomas and effectively distracting him, he’d used his free left hand to slip the second tracking device under the front tire well. The first one had been slipped into Thomas’s luggage.

  Thomas was bound to eventually find the two devices he’d planted, then probably ditch the electronics, including his phone. Depending on how prepared he was, Thomas might also end up abandoning the car he was currently driving.

  The smallest, third device, the one they were counting on to track him, was planted in the back of his collar. Kendra had placed it there when they’d all been back in the room, and she’d stepped between Thomas and him, ostensibly to split them up.

  After Thomas left, Kendra joined Paul and they were on their way moments later.

  “Preston’s ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah. He’ll wait for our call.” She remained silent for several moments. “I don’t trust Evan. Something about this feels...off.”

  “To me, too. It was almost too easy. His explanation was plausible, but it sounded too well rehearsed.”

  Paul stayed a half mile back, well out of visual range as they followed the three dots on the GPS screen targeting Thomas’s location. “Do you have someone inside the marshals service you’d trust with your life?” he asked her.

  She thought about it a moment, then nodded slowly. “Several, but one in particular, Tim Johnson. I was his partner for two years before he was relocated to Washington.”

  “A mover and shaker?” he said, pushing back the stab of jealousy. Had they been as close as Judy and him? A storm raged inside him as he thought of her with someone else.

  “Tim demanded a lot from himself. Five minutes with him and you knew he was destined to climb the ladder.”

  “Is he the kind who goes strictly by the book?” he said, biting off each word.

  “No, not really. He’s more results oriented. What is it you want him to do?”

  “The day Judy and I were shot, backup arrived within five minutes. Thomas showed up with the deputies who first came on the scene, too, though he wasn’t part of their team. I never questioned it because, to me, he was one of the good guys. Now I’d like to know why he was in the area. You said he was your team’s sniper?”

  Kendra’s mouth fell open, but she recovered quickly. “You think he was the one who tried to make the hit on the judge?”

  “He showed up out of thin air, and if memory serves me, he was on foot. Of course there was a lot of confusion, and I was flat on my back on the pavement at the time in a lot of pain.”

  “Was he part of your protection detail?” Kendra asked.

  “No, but if he had official business in the area it should be on record somewhere,” Paul said.

  Kendra nodded. “Okay, I’ll ask Tim to check that out for me. He won’t hesitate.”

  Kendra made the call, and Paul heard her tone of voice change as she spoke to her former partner. She’d greeted Johnson like a friend, but the awkwardness that would sometimes result between former lovers—or partners who’d crossed that line—was absent. Still, it was clear that they liked each other and that irked him. He wanted her to get to the point quickly and end the conversation, but somehow held his peace.

  An eternity later, she hung up. “He’ll check.”

  “We’ve got another problem,” Paul said, pointing to the screen. “Thomas ditched two of the bugs and his cell phone as I thought he would. The signals are coming from a strip mall ahead. The other bug, probably the one you stuck under his collar, has him heading north.”

  “I wonder if he’s running to, or from, his cartel friends?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Paul answered. “Call Preston and fill him in, and ask officers to check the strip mall. I suspect Evan had a second vehicle stashed there. Under the circumstances, it makes sense that he’d want to ditch the sedan. We know what it looks like.”

  “If the tracker indicates he’s heading out of the city or to the airport, we’ll have to pick him up,” Kendra said.

  “I don’t think he’ll make a run for it,” Paul said. “He’ll probably go to ground somewhere after linking up with the cartel.”

  Kendra updated Preston, then, keeping him on the speaker phone, added, “Looks like Thomas circled Main Street twice, then stopped. He’s moving so slowly now, he must be on foot.”

  “There’s a dry cleaners there—Smith’s Finest—that seems to attract a lot of suspicious characters,” Preston said. “We’ve been watching the place for weeks but we still don’t have a clue what’s really going on there.”

  “Tell us more about the cleaners,” she said, glancing at Paul, who nodded.

  “Hang on.” They heard Preston sending an unmarked patrol unit to watch the cleaners, then seconds later, he returned to the phone. “It’s a one-story cinder block building with a front entrance and one back exit into the alley.”

  “How about the roof? Any escape through there?” Kendra asked.

  “A skylight, maybe, since it’s a flat-roofed structure. We can have an officer cover that from the building next door,” Preston said, then added, “But no way that’s the warehouse Thomas told you about.”

  “I’m guessing that this is the first meet,” Paul said. “Thomas will talk to one of Hawthorn’s lieutenants and try to get the cartel’s help leaving the country.”

  “Waiting around to see if he can lead us to bigger fish is too risky,” Kendra said. “Evan’s smart and knows how we work. Let’s move now.”

  “You ready to make the arrest?” Preston asked.

  “Ten-four,” Kendra said.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ten minutes later Preston and several detectives entered the dry cleaners from the street. Kendra and Paul were positioned out back, weapons ready.

  Within a few seconds a man wearing a suit jacket and slacks burst out the door and onto the loading platform, brandishing a sawed-off shotgun.

  He spotted Kendra first and swung his weapon around. Paul leaped out from cover and yanked the barrel of the gun upwards, slamming the butt down into the perp’s groin. The man doubled up, and Paul tore the shotgun from his grip.<
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  Kendra moved in, sweeping his legs. The man crashed to the ground just as a second perp carrying a pistol rushed outside. His path blocked by his fallen companion, the suspect took aim at Paul.

  Kendra shot first. The man grunted in pain, his own bullet going wild. Clutching his chest, he turned to run back inside, but found himself face-to-face with Preston.

  “Don’t give me a reason,” Preston growled.

  “No more,” he managed through clenched teeth and sagged to his knees beside his prone partner. He placed the pistol on the concrete platform, then assumed the position, locking his hands behind his neck.

  “No blood. Suspects must have vests,” Paul said. Kendra’s gaze remained on the ex-owner of the shotgun.

  “Where’s Evan Thomas?”

  “That bastard sold us out. He and Genaro crawled through the dryer tunnel,” he said. “There’s a fake panel in the back. If you hurry, you can probably grab them.”

  As another officer appeared outside to cover them, Preston handcuffed the men. “Go,” he said. “We’re good here.”

  Paul followed Kendra inside. One Hartley detective was guarding two employees lying facedown on the floor. He looked up just for a second. “Clear outside?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Paul replied, “but we’re one perp short, maybe two.”

  “Let’s check the big dryer at the end,” Kendra said, “the one with the ‘out of order’ sign.”

  Paul opened the door and, glancing inside the stainless steel bin, spotted a nickel-sized piece of green plastic sitting on the drum.

  He recognized the device instantly. “It’s the GPS tracker you placed on Evan’s collar. So where the hell is this tunnel?” Paul reached in, put his hand on the circular end of the dryer drum, and pushed. It swung open, revealing an opening beyond.

  “I’m going in first.” Kendra stepped around him, jumped in, feet first, then eased down into a plywood-lined vertical tunnel. She could see a dim light at the bottom of a ten-foot drop.

  She called to Paul. “I think this leads to an adjacent building. Go outside and look around. I’ll check things out here.”