The Chase

by DiAnn Mills

  She picked up the phone. Her fingers trembled. “An agent from the FBI is here to see you.” She ended the call. “Mr. Phillips will be right out. You can have a seat while you wait.”

  “Thanks. I’ll stand.”

  “My nephew is in the FBI in Dallas. Real nice kid. Smart too. We think he’ll go far.”

  Yes, she was nervous.

  Within thirty seconds, Wyatt Phillips appeared in the front office. He had a pretty-boy look about him and a plastic smile. Too confident in his body language. Phillips held out his hand and Tigo grasped it. He followed Phillips back to his office. Neat. Orderly. Soft music playing.

  “What brings the FBI to my office? Am I being recruited?” He laughed, but Tigo failed to join him.

  “This concerns your ex-wife, Victoria Phillips.”

  “Has something happened to her?” Not a crease of emotion.

  “She was followed by a woman last Friday while in the company of her sister Kariss. When Mrs. Phillips questioned the woman, she assaulted Kariss and fled the scene.”

  “Sounds like Kariss’s problem.” His nose twitched, and he scratched it.

  “I understand you and your ex-wife have a few issues.”

  “Our relationship is none of the FBI’s business. Would you like to speak to my attorney?”

  “I can if it becomes necessary. True, I’m not the least interested in your personal life. But hiring a stalker or a potential killer does make it FBI business.”

  Phillips’s eyes widened, and his face reddened. “Hey. You’re out of line. I wouldn’t have Vicki followed or hire someone to hurt her. Maybe you need to look into her crazy sister’s life.”

  “We’re investigating Kariss Walker’s background too.” Tigo removed a copy of the sketch made of the woman in question. “Does this woman look familiar?”

  Phillips’s gaze barely lit on the sketch. “Never saw her before in my life.”

  “Look closer, Mr. Phillips. I want to make sure you don’t recognize this woman.”

  Phillips took the sketch. “As I said before, I don’t know her.”

  “I’d like to talk to your current wife.”

  “She’s not my wife. She’s my girlfriend.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to drag her into this. We have a new baby. He’s fussy. Neither of us is getting much sleep.”

  Tigo wanted to comment on Phillips’s lack of sleep, but swallowed the sarcasm instead. “I need to talk to her. What’s her name?” Tigo took a pen and pad of paper from his jacket and studied Phillips’s face.

  “She doesn’t know Vicki’s pregnant, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Phillips should have thought about the repercussions of his actions before now. “My intentions are to talk to her about last Friday’s incident.”

  Phillips took a deep breath. “Lissa Montgomery.”

  “A phone number?”

  “It’s a cell.” Phillips rattled off the information.

  “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.” Tigo left Phillips’s office, but he wanted to spend a few minutes with the receptionist.

  “What did you say your nephew’s name was? The one who’s in the FBI?”

  The woman took a deep breath, no doubt to compose herself. She gave him good eye contact, told him her nephew’s name, and he jotted it down.

  “Did you say he worked in Dallas?”

  “Yes.” Her eye contact remained the same.

  “Say, I was wondering if you could help me.” He showed her the sketch of the woman. “Have you ever seen her before?”

  “No, sir.” She blinked.

  He handed her a business card. “If you happen to see her, would you give me a call?”

  Once in his truck, Tigo phoned Lissa. He assumed Phillips had called her first. Tigo left a message instructing her to contact him by five o’clock today or he’d pay her a visit.

  Tigo arrived at his desk at ten-thirty. Kariss had texted him earlier asking when she should bring his Starbucks. He had the woman trained, at least in one area. While driving back from Phillips Commercial Realty, he’d received a call from Ricardo Montoya and learned about Kariss’s Sunday afternoon call to 9-1-1.

  Kariss Walker needed to be under his radar every hour. If not, he’d be attending her funeral.

  “Good morning.” She set his coffee on the desk. “Hope your weekend was good.”

  He glanced up. Control, Tigo. He decided to take a gentle approach. After all, since last Friday she’d been assaulted and shot at. Most people would give up this ridiculous venture of researching the FBI.

  “Good to see you,” he said. “Want to take our coffee to the break room?”

  A spark of alarm flashed across her dark-brown eyes. She blinked. “Sure. Do I need to take notes?”

  He waved away her question. “I need a break. It’s been a long morning, and the paperwork on my desk is depressing.”

  They reached for their coffees and walked past the other agents. He greeted them while his mind raced on how to approach her police rescue. Once in the break room, he made small talk to relax her. She crossed her legs, her left foot shaking.

  “I realize I know very little about you, and here we are working together.”

  “What would you like to know? After the shooting, you nearly had my blood type.” Her voice sounded light, but her lower lip trembled.

  “Your life has been rather precarious since then.”

  “Mildly stated.” She took a sip of her latte. “I’m dealing with it. Making changes in my life. I’d still like to have the identity of the woman who assaulted me last Friday. Like you, I think Wyatt or his new wife is responsible.”

  “I visited him earlier this morning. He denied any knowledge of it, but his secretary acted as though she recognized the woman from the sketch. I have a call in to Lissa. If she doesn’t respond by this afternoon, I’ll take a ride over there.”

  Kariss nodded. “I’ve seen her, but haven’t met her. Thanks for handling the situation.”

  She sounded formal. He opened his coffee and let the aroma fill his nostrils. “For the record, the two aren’t married. Your sister might need to know that.”

  “I’m not surprised. He’s a real jerk.”

  “Tell me about your brothers and sisters. You’re the youngest, so start from the top.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. “Not sure what this is about, but all right, here goes. Craig is the oldest, and he owns a construction company in Austin. Emma teaches psychology at A&M. Melanie is a geologist and works for an oil-and-gas company, also in Austin. Vicki is a nurse, and Conn is in his sixth year of a four-year degree at a junior college.”

  “Nieces? Nephews?”

  “Are you padding my file?”

  “Just making an effort to be friends.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “We’ve been together five days a week for nearly two months. You dislike your assignment to me, and that’s probably a mild term. You’d like nothing better than for me to leave town. Now you decide to be friends? I know better.”

  He had to give her credit for holding herself together. “A little edgy, aren’t we? I thought it was a nice gesture.”

  “Tigo, you don’t do nice gestures. You’re calculating and always working on a problem, but I’ll give you what you’re asking. Craig has three boys. Emma has one girl. Melanie has one each. Vicki is expecting her first, and Conn isn’t married. But he may have a few kids out there. How’s that?”

  “Are all of you close?”

  “Better than average. Vicki and I are more like best friends.” She took a deep breath.

  Why couldn’t she simply tell him about yesterday? “Can I dig deeper?”

  “Maybe. Depends on what you want to know.” She took a drink of her coffee and eyed him. “Tigo, I had a rough weekend, and I have a feeling you’re about to lecture me about something. If that’s the case, I’d like to postpone it.”

  “Not this time. Ricardo Montoya phoned me earlier. He told me about yesterday afternoon.�
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  She rubbed her arms.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” His voice sounded oddly gentle, even to himself. Not his usual method of interrogation.

  “I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t get the license plate number or see who was in the truck. Just the nationality.”

  “Haven’t we come further than that?” He softened his voice even more. “This is a fed case, and I’m the agent assigned to it. You were dragged into gang warfare and gun smuggling due to my poor judgment. I’m involved, and I want to be bothered.”

  She glanced away then back to him. “I bought a gun on Saturday. Signed up for a CHL license.”

  “Carrying a concealed weapon is not the answer. Takes time for the classes, testing, and final approval.”

  “I know. But I had to do something.” She peered into his eyes. “I stopped by the car dealership this morning, and I’m picking up another car today. Putting the Jag in storage until this is over.”

  “Good move. The Jag is like a moving target. What’s the new car?”

  “A Prius. I hear they have exceptional acceleration and speed, and with the outstanding gas mileage, I’ll still be sailing along when the bad guys run out of fuel.”

  He grinned. “Smart girl. I don’t know any other way to express that I’m concerned about your safety.” He studied her for a moment. “Kariss, whether you like it or not, people care about you. If I could force you out of the city until the Arroyos are brought in and Delores Olvera is found, I would. I’ve even considered having you ‘kidnapped.’ You qualify for witness protection after all.”

  For once Kariss was speechless.

  CHAPTER 27

  “I’m following you to pick up your new car.” Tigo’s announcement had startled Kariss.

  “Why? The dealership isn’t ten minutes from here.”

  “I’ll feel better when you’re driving a different car.”

  Tigo’s concern for her revealed a tender side, one she’d seen on more than one occasion. He stayed with her until she drove away in a new white Prius, all professional and middle-class.

  The man was simply too complex.

  In the security of her condo, Kariss couldn’t stop her thoughts from spinning from one frightening incident to another. She could leave town like Tigo suggested, but wasn’t running a coward’s way out? Her mind reverted to writer mode. Her heroes needed to have courage to flee or stand and fight. In her situation she didn’t know what was smart or stupid.

  Wyatt’s girlfriend, Lissa, had told Tigo she knew nothing about the woman who’d stalked Kariss and Vicki. But a person who stooped low enough to pay someone to follow them wouldn’t admit to it. Just take note they’d been found out. Kariss hoped the situation wasn’t a part of Wyatt’s project to intimidate Vicki.

  Sinking into her favorite chair, Kariss closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. A dull headache had plagued her all afternoon. No wonder, considering the mess in her life. The option to be placed into witness protection hadn’t really registered until today’s conversation with Tigo, and now she felt true fright, physically and mentally. She’d like to think this whole experience could be typed into a file titled “Emotive Conflict Research” if she stayed alive long enough to document it. She was distrustful of everyone but Tigo.

  Owning a gun and taking lessons on how to use it didn’t make her feel safe either. The process of acquiring the skill and license took far too long. Right now the gun lay on her nightstand. She didn’t even know how to load it, proving that in a crisis, she’d be dead while she figured out how to insert a bullet. One day soon she’d allow herself a good cry about all of this. Maybe when it was over. Or maybe she’d celebrate and take Vicki on a trip to Hawaii — a survival treat.

  Right now, she needed to devote some thought to Xavier’s circumstances and shove her own problems aside. Delores’s grandmother claimed she didn’t have any grandchildren and didn’t know a Delores. But the man who’d once lived near Xavier and Delores, the one who’d spent time in jail, said he’d recently seen the woman at a Walmart — alone. Kariss had given the information to Tigo then walked away. After this morning’s serious talk, she refused to burden him with the other trauma in her life. She’d figure it out soon.

  Think about Xavier’s tragedy. That is your book’s topic.

  Kariss picked up her phone and called the local fire station. “I’m working on a story about a soldier who returns from Iraq and learns his ex-girlfriend dropped their baby off at a fire station. Who keeps records of abandoned children?”

  “If the baby’s missing, he would need to contact the police or Child Protective Services. When a child is abandoned at a safe haven, the police are notified, then CPS places the child.”

  She looked over her notes, thanked the fireman, and ended the call. Her next inquiry went to CPS. She repeated the same scenario.

  “The baby would have been placed in foster care. Efforts are made to identify the child, but if there’s no identity, then the baby’s probably been adopted.”

  “Given my story’s situation, how long is a child in foster care before an adoption can occur?”

  “Up to eighteen months.”

  “What’s done to locate the parents?”

  “CPS needs time to resolve the legal case and to attempt to find either of the parents. A mother could abandon her child, but the father might be willing and able to take the child or children. If the parents cannot be found, then CPS serves them by publication.”

  Kariss remembered reading abandoned children notices in the paper while working at Channel 5.

  “The process could take six months to a year,” the CPS worker said. “Parental rights can be terminated more quickly if the parents never present themselves to the court. Note that children are required to live in the home with adoptive parents for at least six months before the adoption can be consummated.”

  “Who has the records of abandoned children?”

  “We do.”

  “Are they public?”

  “No. Texas CPS records are closed. When the child is of age, he or she has access to their file — why and when the child was taken into custody.”

  “About how many abandoned child cases do you have a year?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “How often does CPS take these cases to court?”

  “Whenever they make their way up the docket. The custody cases are held in open court.”

  Kariss needed time to internalize what she’d just learned. “Thank you for your time and information.” She disconnected the call. Telling Xavier about this latest finding wouldn’t be easy. What if his child had been recently abandoned? Was there a way to find out? Without a name, would CPS even take him seriously? Could his child be in a foster home?

  Before she ended her search, she’d talk to Catholic Charities, since many Hispanics shared that faith. Glancing at her hurriedly scribbled notes, she quickly typed them into a file.

  The doorbell rang, and she rose to answer it. She lived in a gated community, and visitors had to phone for entrance into the complex. Must be a neighbor. “Who’s there?”

  “Tigo.”

  She flung open the door to meet his grinning face. He leaned against the door jamb. “Did you flash your badge to gain access here? Never mind. I already know the answer.”

  He looked entirely too easygoing, as though she expected his arrival. But she wasn’t swallowing this ruse.

  “You’re still upset with me,” he said.

  “Not upset. Just stressed to the max. Haven’t you tortured me enough for one day?”

  He chuckled. He really was good looking — if she could get past his analytic personality. “I wanted to talk. Do you have plans for dinner?”

  “Is this like the coffee in the lounge this morning?”

  “Sort of. I thought you deserved to see a good side of me.”

  “I’ve seen it in rare moments, and I appreciate the thought. But I’m not a dinner date.” She abruptly closed the door.
“Go home to your wife or live-in or whoever she is.”

  He knocked this time, and she leaned closer to hear what he might have to say. A movie clip swept across her mind, showing a determined FBI agent kicking down the door. “I don’t have a wife or girlfriend.”

  She knew better. “Who’s Natalie?”

  “One of my mother’s nurses.”

  His mother? How sad. Compassion seized her. “Your mother’s ill?”

  “Yes. Are you going to let me in?”

  “Why should I?”

  “To make peace.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m worried you’re going to do something stupid. Purchasing a gun makes me uneasy.”

  He’d gotten his nose into her business once too often. She opened the door and crossed her arms over her chest. “Tigo, in all of your FBI work, haven’t you ever had a class on how to communicate with women?”

  “Of course. Should I have brought flowers?”

  “Yes, and candy.”

  He continued to grin. “Dinner?”

  “Will you answer some questions for me?”

  “The best I can.”

  He was up to something, but staying at home trying to figure out how to help Xavier depressed her. “Do you have your truck or the new slum mobile?”

  “Truck.”

  “Okay. I need a few minutes to freshen up. Change clothes.” Kariss stepped away and let Tigo inside. “Where are we going?”

  “Houston’s.”

  She’d make him wait fifteen minutes for spite. This could be a side of him to include in her book. “Would you like a soda or bottled water?”

  “Water sounds good.” He glanced around the room. “I like the chrome and glass. Not so sure I could keep all the white furniture clean.”

  “That’s why it’s a woman’s condo.”

  In the living room, Tigo picked up a DVD on the entertainment center. “This is a good action movie. Credible scenes.”

  “Once you get past the blood.”

  “It’s a movie.”

  “I usually cover my eyes.”

  “Do you always shut your eyes during the bloody scenes?”

  Kariss could only imagine his response. “Yes.”

  “But it’s not real.” He pointed to the DVD’s colorful cover, but she refused to look at the red. “Those are actors. Fake blood.”