No, the only people that were on my list of suspects were based out of Denver and had a last name that started with the letter F. The only question was, do I talk to Zeke first? Or the Florentinos?
Chapter Eight – Peter
“Cap, you busy? I think I finally found something.”
Those were the words Peter had been waiting to hear since he sicced Jake Wayne on the shifter massacre mystery. A lead, a clue, something, anything. Just more than what they had.
Jake stood by Peter’s office door with a legal pad in hand, his face serious beneath his heavy black beard.
“Yeah,” Peter said, turning away from the database research he’d been doing on his own, “come on in. And shut the door. No need to let this out into the wild yet.”
Jake shut the door quietly and eased himself into one of the little chairs in front of Peter’s desk. Before he settled all the way in, though, he leaned forward and took a deep breath of the succulent sitting on his desk.
“You know, I can buy you one of those.”
Jake grinned. “Just like the smell is all. It’s nice to get it every now and then. Besides, I got my own desert flower at home now.”
Peter smiled a little, happy that Jake was still with the pack. A few months before, he’d been wavering on whether he was going to stick around. But when his mate, Elise Moon, suddenly dropped into his lap, Jake had done a complete one-eighty. His desert flower, a New Mexico native, had taken him on a wild adventure across the High Country on a desperate search for her sister. But they’d both come home safe, even if it was empty-handed. And in the end they’d at least found love, and Jake had finally learned to control his inner wolf.
That was more important to both of them than whether or not Elise’s sister had stayed where they found her. At least in Wyoming she was safe and happy, and not running from one bad situation to another.
“What’d you find?”
“Okay, so I remember what you told me about Mary’s story about the night of her parents’ deaths? How they looked like they were military guys?”
Peter nodded. That was one of the parts of the story that had been confusing to him, too. If what Mary had described that night was true, the people hunting shifters were most definitely organized. Some kind of paramilitary level of organization, too. Automatic weapons, specialized equipment, trained personnel, and some kind of freak of nature giant who made Hulk Hogan look like Pee Wee Herman. But how, then, did Peter not know about them? Of course there were private militaries out there. Black Water, Executive Outcomes, Sandline International, and Triple Canopy, to name just a few. But the government kept tabs on those guys and worked with them even in areas like Africa, Iraq, and Afghanistan. Some argued they were too close to the government, even.
So how had Peter never heard of these guys? And why were his contacts within the Department of Defense as in the dark as he was? Shouldn’t there have been at least a blip on the government’s radar?
“And, I was thinking, you can’t just drive a convoy full of those guys across the country, right? That’s both too slow and draws too much damned attention your way.”
“Agreed. A guy who looks like he’s bigger than Andre the Giant is going to draw a few raised eyebrows if you take him down Route 66.”
“Exactly. With that in mind, I started looking at flight records into and out of local rural airfields, the kind you use with private planes, because you definitely can’t take tactical gear and a five hundred pound bodybuilder on Delta, either. Everyone, even the CIA, has to log flight plans with the Federal Aviation Administration, especially since 9/11.”
Peter nodded, a little smile on his lips. Getting Jake on the case had been the right decision, even if it had taken Peter longer than it should have to decide he needed outside help. He’d just been convinced he could solve this one on his own. Looked like he was wrong. Maybe it was because they'd attacked his family first, because they'd been the ones to take his mate. Whatever the reason, though, he'd learned his lesson. From now on, he wanted to be more open. And, as soon as he had enough information in his hands to strike back, he was going to bring all the expertise of Frost Security to bear on these bastards.
“What’d you find?”
“More questions,” he replied as he slid over his legal pad. His tight, even print flowed down the yellow page in black ink. “Maybe some answers, too.”
“What am I looking at?”
“Flight numbers and tail numbers from a company named Jaeger-Tech. Flight after flight after flight coming in and leaving a municipal airport right outside Edmund, Oklahoma right up to the night of the attack on Mary's family. I checked the tail numbers on plane spotter forums.”
“Plane spotters?”
He shrugged. “Apparently some people like tracking planes. I don't get it, but it was useful.”
Peter nodded and waved him on. “So I checked the tail numbers to the types of aircraft coming in. These right here in the beginning, they're smaller private aircrafts. This one right here that comes in the night before and leaves the night of? Cargo aircraft, a Fairchild C-123.”
The Fairchild had been used by the military for a while, Peter knew, but had been outdated. Instead, it saw a lot of work in the 70s and 80s throughout Central and South America. A lot of drug runners used them back then, taking cocaine back and forth to the USA during the cartel days. “Troop transport, you think?”
Jake nodded. “You could fit a platoon in it.”
Peter scratched his chin and let out a deep sigh.
“And the flights, Peter, they stop after that night. Zero. Nada. Nothing.”
“Zilch, huh?”
Jake nodded.
“What else? What do we know about this Jaeger-Tech?”
“Small company based out of the Pacific Northwest, incorporated in Delaware. And that's about it. No physical addresses on file, everything goes back to PO boxes. Privately held, no financial records available because they don't have to file with the SEC.”
He looked up at Jake, eyebrow raised. “You mean I subscribe to all the fucking databases in the world and that's all we fucking know?”
“Well, they're owned by a bunch of different LLCs, who are owned by more LLCs, who are owned by even more LLCs, who are all owned by corporations that are out of Panama. God only knows where the rabbit hole leads from there.”
Peter ground his teeth and slapped the legal pad down on the desk. “That's all we fucking have?” he growled.
“Whoa, Cap, I'm just telling you what I got. Information available online is zilch, zero. No job listings on Monster, no articles about them even in local or regional newspapers. I mean, it's almost like they don't even exist. What more do you expect from me here? If there's no information on them out there, there's no information.”
He shook his head, sat back in his chair. “Shit, Jake. Not pissed at you, just felt like we were close.”
“We still are. It's just—this kind of thing isn't exactly what I'm good at. I'm good at clues on the ground, following trails where they lead. And you know that. But we do have some people that are pretty specialized with this computer-based research. You just don't want to use all the resources at our disposal, Cap.”
Peter flared his nostrils as he took a deep breath. He shook his head. He knew exactly what Jake was angling at. “No. Gen would have two sets of wolf balls sitting on her desk if she found out I tapped her granddaughter on this thing.”
“Come on, Cap. You know how it is, you gotta pick the right man for the job.”
“Or twenty-year-old girl.”
“Or that. Look, I don't like it, either. She's like a little sister to me.”
Peter shook his head. “No, I don't like it. Remember the last time she got pulled into something?”
“Yeah, she got shot at.”
About a year before, Lacy had discovered a new piece of information in a case Richard Murdoch was working. Only problem was, he and the woman he was protecting were out of cellphone signal ra
nge at the Frost Security safe house north of town, so she decided to try and sneak up there. It hadn't worked out as planned, and a whole gang of bikers followed hot on her heels.
“That's my point, Jake.”
Jake leaned forward, the chair creaking as he shifted his weight. “So what? She's almost twenty-one, Cap. You and I had bullets whizzing over our heads at her age, didn't we? Had to keep our eyes peeled for IEDs. Remember the explosions, having to kill people?”
“Yeah,” Peter said. “I remember.” Not that he wanted to. If anything, he wanted to forget how dangerous the world could be. But that was part of the reason they'd set up this business. To fix problems that the authorities couldn't, to help people the authorities couldn't help. What use would they be to the world if they couldn't do anything against these Jaeger-Tech people?
“And, besides,” Jake said, “this is just intelligence-gathering work. She'd be doing all the research here at the office, just putting together files and documentation for us. Nothing in the field, nothing in person. She'll have a computer between her and whoever the hell these people are.”
Peter winced and shook his head. “I just don't like it. I don't like any of this.”
“Think I do? Bottom-line, I've gotten as much information out of my skillset as I can. I'm at a dead end on the investigation, here, and I'm not going any farther on these lines of inquiry. Not without help. Not without her help, or someone just as good.”
The namesake of Frost Security leaned back in his chair, scratching his chin again. Jake was right. This was the kind of thing they'd hired Lacy for. But Peter had been reluctant to tap anyone, including Jake, on this little project. He didn't want to unload all this on his pack until he knew the full extent of the conspiracy against them. The only person that knew about all this, besides Jake, was Gen. Even then, she only knew the parts Peter had felt were safe enough to tell her.
“I think she's out at Zeke's right now, collecting his hard drive for the case Matt's on. She's going to be tied up with that project for the moment.”
“Well, fucking pull her off it, Cap. We need to know who the hell these people are, especially if they're coming after shifter packs. How much longer till they come after us?”
“Not that simple, unfortunately. I think Matt found his mate. Zeke's goddaughter, Rebecca Stokes.”
Jake sat back in his chair, ran a hand back through his black hair. “Of all the awful fucking timing.” Despite his words, he broke into a grin. “Really? You think he did? You sure?”
“Saw that look in his eyes, same as all three of you got when you found yours. No way for him to fake it. Not for me, at least.”
“Well, shit,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Still, you gotta admit it is pretty shitty timing on his part.”
“Come on, Jake, you know he can't just pick when it's gonna happen. If that were the case, I would've restricted all you guys to only finding yours during the slow months. Besides, do you know how hard of a hit I've taken on all you because of your true mates? Ashley, Jessica, Elise?”
“Me and Elise? It wasn't that bad.”
“Me doctoring crime scenes? Two days in the hospital for her? Who do you think picked up that expense?”
The grin on Jake's face faded a little. “You know we appreciate you, Cap. Everything you've done for us. You're our alpha.”
“And I appreciate that. This is still a business but at the end of the day you guys are my pack. And that's more important than any business.”
“You know, though, it doesn't really matter if he's found his mate, or not. We need to find out about these Jaeger-Tech people as soon as we can. And the sooner, I think, the better.”
“I agree. We need to find out where they're getting their funding, who controls them, what their goals are. And, most importantly, why they're going after our people. But I still don't want to pull Lacy into this fight. Not unless we absolutely have to. It should be our last resort to get her involved.”
“I hate to say it, Cap,” Jake said, his voice low and serious, “but I think we might be down to our last resort.”
Chapter Nine – Rebecca
“Ran into Matt Jones while I was finishing up my shift at the firehouse.”
I straightened up a little from how I’d been leaning the side of my head against my fist. I blinked away the visions of Matthew that had been dancing in my head since I’d sat down at our little table near the rear of the Elk. Derrick’s sudden mention of him surprised me, even though I knew full well that they worked together. It just seemed so strange to hear the dreamy security professional’s name on my friend’s lips.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “He’d said he was going up there. What’d you guys talk about?”
“Said he’s working on your uncle’s case.”
“Right,” I said. “Hired him earlier today.”
“Well, he was locked up in the office with Chief Beckett for a little while. Not sure what they talked about, but Beckett didn’t look exactly happy after Matt left.”
“Is that so?”
Derrick shrugged. “But I don’t know, maybe Matt was just asking questions about how we did the call, or something. Chief’s not a big fan of being second-guessed. But, man, Matt is a great firefighter. Best I’ve seen. Damned good inspector, too.”
“Probably just making sure everything was accurate. You should have heard how many questions he asked the deputy. Might as well have been an AP test.”
He laughed. “So, he’s thinking it was someone other than your Uncle Zeke, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, he thinks someone had it out for Zeke and that they faked it.” I told him about the supposed mafia connection and Matthew’s concern about a crime family from Denver being involved. “Said his agency had run into them before, so they’re checking around to see if they’ve contacted any other business owners in town.”
“Well, at least he’s covering all the bases. Probably getting more of your money’s worth with those guys than your Uncle Zeke’s lawyer.” He took a drink of his beer, set it down as he locked me with a thoughtful gaze. “Hey, Becks, I got a question.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t mean to change the subject or anything, but I’ve been wondering. You don’t, you know, blame me for your Uncle Zeke or anything, do you? I mean, I was on the scene when Chief Beckett found everything…”
I blinked in surprise. I’d known Derrick since I was a kid, since we were in high school. Ever since his aunt passed away in a car accident a few months ago and he’d come back to the Rock to take care of his ailing father, we’d steadily gotten closer and closer. Hanging out with him was like stepping foot in a time machine and being transported back to those carefree days of our youth, just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. I couldn’t imagine my life without him being my friend.
I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “Blame you? How the hell could I blame you? You were just doing your job. If anything, I should be thanking you! When this all gets cleared up, you’ll have been one of the men who saved Uncle Zeke’s business from just burning to the ground. Why would I blame you for being on the scene?”
He gave me a genuine smile. “Thanks. I know it’s a sore subject and all. Sometimes, you know, people blame the cops that bring in someone that’s breaking the law—not that I think your uncle actually did it! It’s just that, well, I was there, and your friendship really does mean the world to me.”
I squeezed his hand as I waved him off with the other. “No, I know what you mean. This is all just a mix-up, a big frame for whatever reason. We’ll get it sorted out. Everything will work out now that we’ve actually got someone investigating the fire and not just looking for easy answers.”
Derrick grinned. “Yeah. I think so. I think it’ll be fine.”
We both took drinks of our beers. I’d been pretty much nursing mine the whole time, not wanting to get too drunk or even tipsy. I mean, sure, it’d be nice to be able to party and have a good t
ime, but there was just too much on my mind.
“So, what do you think of Matthew?” I asked after a while, just trying to fill the silence. Seriously, I wasn’t fishing for information.
Derrick didn’t say anything for a moment, like he was judging how to proceed. “I think he’s a really great guy. I mean, like, really amazing. Always tries to help out the rooks. Huge help with me when I first got back into town. Sure, he’s tough and all, but that’s because he’s been in it for a long time. He knows how dangerous our jobs can be.”
I nodded along. “So he’s a good guy then, huh?”
“Yeah. I mean, he’s out of town a lot because of his job. But whenever he’s here, he’s solid to have around.”
“What’s he like, though? I mean, he can be really good at his job, really good at fighting fires and stuff. But, I mean, what does he do for fun?”
Derrick shrugged. “Hiking and camping, I guess? Seems like he hangs out with the guys from work more than anyone. They’ve got some cabin up in the mountains they always seem to be working on. I think he mentioned a little while ago that two of them are getting married soon, too.”
We sat there in silence for a moment. The whole time, Derrick kept his eyes on mine. He took another sip of his beer, then set it down.
“You’ve got a crush on him, don’t you?”
I nearly gasped in surprise. “What? Why would you think that?”
“Because you keep asking all these questions.” He changed his voice, pitched it a little higher to mock mine, asking, “‘Oh, is he a nice guy?’ ‘What do you think of Matthew?’ Might as well ask what kind of music he listens to and if he’s dating anyone!”
“What?” I asked with a shake of my head. “I don’t sound like that!”
“Oh, God, you totally to do, Becks. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking for his phone number.”
“Already have it,” I mumbled.
“Come again?”
“I said I already have it,” I repeated a little bit more clearly than before. “He gave it to me because of the case, so he can get hold of me if he has any questions.”
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