by Mary Stone
“Sounds good. I’ll brief the Portland members of the Kingsley Task Force, then call the local field office too. See if we can’t recruit a few more hands on deck.” Clay pulled out his phone and stepped outside.
Stuck once again with nowhere to focus the restless energy crackling through her limbs, Ellie shook out her arms and eavesdropped on Frank’s call.
“Hello, this is U.S. Marshal Frank Otto. I need to be connected with Stan Lewis. Sure, I’ll hold.” A brief pause followed while Ellie tapped her foot. “Yeah, hey, Stan. Good to hear your voice too. Listen, I have an imminent danger situation on my hands here with a witness and could use some task force help. We have reason to believe he’s being held in a warehouse in Vancouver that’s either owned, rented, or leased by an individual, or more likely, a corporation with the letter X in the name. How soon can your team generate a list for me?”
Another long pause followed, which Ellie filled by gnashing her teeth.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be here. Thanks.”
The moment Frank ended the call, Ellie pounced. “What did they say?”
“They’ll perform the search as quick as possible and get back to us. Might be fifteen minutes, could take up to an hour.”
Ellie threw up her hands. “Great. More waiting, my favorite.” The front door cracked open, and she pounced on Clay as he slipped back into the house. “Well? Any luck?”
Clay leaned his shoulder against the wall. “I’ve got them running down the same information as Frank. Between the two, I expect we’ll have that list soon. Jo McPherson from the Kingsley Task Force is on her way here from Portland. We’ll keep her in the loop as information comes in.”
Frank grunted. “Good. Making progress.”
Ellie resumed her pacing, unable to generate much excitement. Pieces were falling into place, but the clock was running out. None of them could predict how much time remained before Kingsley delivered the killing blow.
“You keep that up, you’ll be exhausted by the time we get the call.” Frank shook his head.
Clay snorted. “You clearly don’t know Ellie. All of that moving around acts like a battery charger for her. The more stressed she is, the more energy she produces.”
Ellie ignored them both and chose to watch the CSI guys sift through the room instead. She itched to join them, but these techs worked together like a finely calibrated machine. As competent as Ellie was, she was honest enough to admit that she’d only slow them down.
While she watched, one of the techs slid his gloved fingers all along the intricate scrollwork of the mirror hanging over the fireplace. The tech paused, teasing at an object beneath a curled bit of metal. Moments later, he stepped back and peered into his gloved palm. “Looks like we’ve got another camera.”
“What the hell?” Frank stormed over to the tech to inspect whatever tiny object the man held. By the time the marshal stomped back across the living room to rejoin Ellie and Clay, red patches splotched his cheeks and neck, and he was cursing under his breath. “This is unbelievable. How could anyone know about the location of the safe house? The whole point of a safe house is that it’s fucking safe. Christ.”
“Kingsley has the means to do most anything,” Ellie murmured, feeling pity for the man.
With an unexpected flash of motion, Frank punched his right fist into his open palm. “Anonymity is the backbone of the entire WITSEC system. Without it, we’re basically a glorified moving company.”
Clay dropped a hand on the other man’s shoulder and squeezed. “Sorry. I’m sure the U.S.M.S. will get to the bottom of this.” He hesitated. “Do you think it could be a staff member who got turned? Maybe the money was too good to pass up?”
Frank wrenched his shoulder out from under Clay’s grip. “Jesus, Clay, whose side are you on here?” His nostrils flared.
Ellie admired the way Clay stood his ground. The man exuded utter calm in the face of Frank’s storm, the picture of an easy-going cowboy in his broad-brimmed hat and sympathetic hazel eyes as he waited his friend out. Ellie marveled over his self-control. Here she was, puffing her chest out, ready to leap to Clay’s defense. Meanwhile, the agent’s half-lidded eyes made him appear close to dozing off.
Ellie eased back onto her heels and sighed. Quick tempers. The eternal curse of redheads everywhere.
The blaze faded from Frank’s eyes, and his expression turned sheepish. “Sorry, that was a low blow. I know which side you’re on. It’s just…we’re known for our success rates in keeping witnesses protected. The only time we tend to lose one is when the witness breaks the rules. But…” He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “I guess you never really know for sure what’s happening in someone’s private life that might make them turn bad.”
The sight of the big, tough marshal looking so forlorn over the idea of a traitor in his midst slashed at Ellie’s heart, erasing any remaining irritation. She understood the sickness that spread through you when you suspected fellow officers of foul play. Charleston PD had their fair share of dirty cops. In fact, Ellie owed her current job to one. Her predecessor, Detective Jones. If it hadn’t been for the CPD veteran dropping so many cold cases, Fortis might never have realized what a knack Ellie had for solving crimes that others gave up on long ago.
Then again, if it weren’t for Ellie, Jones probably would have enjoyed his retirement without anyone ever being the wiser that the detective took bribes from criminals to keep cold cases unsolved. Instead, Detective Jones had ended up in a coffin.
This time, even Frank jiggled his leg with impatience as the three of them waited. The clink of his keys accompanied Ellie’s renewed pacing. Five steps up. Five steps back. She felt like she’d been walking that line for hours when the marshal’s phone rang. Ellie stopped moving while Clay straightened up from the wall. Both of them hoping for some good news.
Frank murmured into the phone, then listened. No speakerphone this time. Ellie seethed with impatience, studying Frank’s expression for a sign. After another brief exchange, the marshal flashed them a thumbs-up.
Ellie’s fingers tingled as she barely dared to hope. Had they found a warehouse with X in the name? Already? She glanced at Clay to get his take, but the FBI agent was zeroed in on Frank.
“Right. I need you to rally the Special Operations Group ASAP, as soon as you send me that address.”
Special Operations Group? As in the federal SWAT team? The tight leash holding Ellie’s hope in check snapped, and the sudden change made her both light-headed and even twitchier. By the time Frank finally hung up, Ellie bounced on her heels and practically frothed at the mouth. “Well?”
Frank lifted his head, revealing a determined grin. “They found a warehouse that fits the criteria that Katarina shared, about an hour from here.”
An hour. Ellie closed her eyes and uttered a silent plea. Gabe still had a chance. If they hurried.
When she opened her eyes again, Ellie no longer noticed the bustling crime techs around them. Her world had narrowed to two simple objectives.
“Let’s go save Gabe and put a stop to Kingsley’s twisted games once and for all.”
“Count me in,” Clay said.
Frank nodded, his expression equally determined. “I’ll drive.”
He led Ellie and Clay out the door to his SUV while a single thought pounded through Ellie in time with her heart.
Hang on, Gabe. We’re coming.
26
After strapping on their Kevlar vests in the SUV, Ellie, Clay, and Frank joined the rest of the vehicles carrying the Special Operations Group at the prearranged destination, which turned out to be the side of the road about half a mile from the warehouse.
Frank led them over to the SUV in front and introduced them to the driver and leader of the tactical maneuver, Federal Agent Scott Willis. He had a wide, crooked nose that looked like it’d met one too many fists and brown hair buzzed about an inch long. His gaze performed a quick inspection of Ellie before he switched over to Clay. “Lo
se the cowboy hat before we get there.”
Some of his FBI coworkers would have taken offense at the federal agent’s barked command. Clay didn’t understand the point. He tipped the cowboy hat in question at Willis and winked. “Planned on it.”
Agent Willis nodded before shoving his phone beneath Frank’s nose. “Here are the blueprints we pulled up. Short notice, so might not be complete, but better than pissing into the wind.”
While the three of them took turns studying the layout, Willis filled them in on the plan. “Two teams. Team One will be led by me, and we’ll breach the front door here.” He tapped the corresponding spot on the blueprint and then craned his head to look into the back seat. “Yo Donny, wave your hand.”
The tall blond man with a broad forehead sitting behind the shotgun position lifted his hand and waved.
“That’s Donny. He’s leading Team Two. That’s your team. It’ll be you three, plus two more of our guys, Johnson and Blake. Once Team One gets inside, we’ll radio him, and your team will breach the back entrance here. We’ll also have snipers positioned here…and here.”
Clay peered over Ellie’s shoulder to find the spots Willis indicated. Once they finished, Willis folded his arms across his barrel-chest and narrowed his eyes. “Remember, you are guests on this mission, so please act accordingly. Do not get in the way, and for the love of everything that is good and holy, don’t get yourselves shot. The paperwork alone is a nightmare bitch that I guarantee will put me in a piss-poor mood. Clear?”
Clay could almost see the tension coming off Ellie. No surprise there. Between her stress over Gabe and her tendency to get fired up when other LEOs treated her like she didn’t know one end of her gun from the other, Clay bet she was primed to explode. He bumped her shoulder with his. A reminder to let this go for now.
His tactic worked. Ellie muttered, “Clear,” before stomping back over to Frank’s SUV.
Frank and Clay trailed her. They fell into the line of SUVs and followed Willis the last half mile into the warehouse parking lot.
From that point on, things moved quickly. One of the SUVs veered off to the right, while the others pulled straight up. Doors opened quietly, and agents slid out on nearly silent feet. Willis’s group of five glided off in the direction of the main entrance. Donny waved them over to join two others who Ellie assumed were Johnson and Blake. The federal agents were all decked out in identical black tactical gear. “Headed around the left side to get into position. Stay low.”
Donny motioned them to follow him around to the back of the warehouse. The two other Special Ops Group members fell in directly behind him, leaving Clay’s group to bring up the rear. Clay trailed a few feet behind Ellie as their team crept along the darkened asphalt.
The night vision goggles always threw Clay’s equilibrium off at first. The eerie green hue the NVGs cast over the world made him feel like he was in an underwater dystopia full of seaweed and Loch Ness monsters.
They stayed low as they skirted the perimeter of the building, pausing every so often to listen. Nothing stirred, not even crickets. As far as Clay could tell, the only lifeform out there was them.
The leader waved them around the rear corner of the warehouse and over to a rectangular metal door, large enough to drive a truck through. They divided up, with two of the SOG members slinking over to the far side of the rear entrance, leaving Clay, Ellie, and Frank to wait opposite them. Donny stood in the middle, facing the door while reaching for an object tucked into his belt. The green lighting messed with Clay’s visual acuity, but he guessed the tool that Donny extracted was a breaching bar. With an efficiency of movement and time, the black-clad agent was ready to go.
Now, they waited for the signal from Team One.
In front of him, Ellie jiggled her legs. That same nervous energy crackled through Clay’s limbs. He’d simply had more practice learning to contain his. Part of him hoped that, unlike him, Ellie never learned to hide her physical tells. Her unabashed openness was one of many qualities that had hooked Clay and reeled him in.
Another trait he found irresistible was Ellie’s courage to plunge right into the battle, especially when that meant saving others.
As the silence stretched out around them, Clay fingered his gun, reassuring himself of the weapon’s presence. That very same bravery also caused him endless worry because it led to Ellie placing herself in harm’s way. The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, washing over Ellie. His gut clenched. Like right now, for instance. Once again, conflicting emotions tore at Clay. Fear, over the way the beautiful woman in front of him flung herself straight into the belly of the beast, and pride, over the same damn thing.
Their team leader whispered into the microphone attached to his earpiece before motioning them all to stand back. He held up both hands, splaying all his fingers. Clay had been on enough of these types of missions to understand.
Breach in ten.
Exactly ten seconds later, Donny applied the tool. The door burst open.
They were in.
Soft light spilled from the warehouse, illuminating their path inside. The breached door yawned open into the cavernous interior like a monster’s mouth. Clay flipped the NVGs up and stayed close to Ellie’s lithe form while Frank tailed him. With their guns extended at shoulder level, the three of them worked together, clearing their quadrant of the building one segment at a time. They covered ground quickly. Not tough, when empty cement flooring and a few dusty shelving units comprised the majority of the space.
Ellie whirled around one of the shelving units, gun ready. “Clear.”
The rest of the shelves failed to reveal any hiding spots. So did the pile of decaying boxes in the far corner. Nothing there except grime accompanied by a strong whiff of earth and mildew and the faintest hint of ammonia.
Clay didn’t like this.
The longer they went without running into Kingsley or Gabe or receiving confirmation that another SOG member had contained the pair, the more acid churned in his stomach. He wouldn’t put it past Katarina to send them on a wild goose chase.
Ellie waved them over to a rectangular structure built into the warehouse. Clay closed in and saw what had captured her attention. A door. Probably led to an office. He feinted to the opposite side and pressed his back to the concrete wall. Ellie held three fingers in the air. Then two.
Clay tightened his grip on his gun and waited.
One.
Ellie sprang forward, grabbed the door handle, and twisted. A second later, she kicked close to the lock. The metal swung wide, slamming into an unseen object with a loud crack and creating an opening. Ellie lunged into the space, her gun swinging left to right. Clay fell in behind her, his muscles taut as he surveilled the enclosure for movement.
“Clear.”
His lungs eased at Ellie’s announcement. Nobody home. A sliver of shiny green beckoned from the table closest to the door. Clay frowned. Someone had been here at some point in time or another, based on that empty granola wrapper.
When? Recent enough that it hadn’t gathered the same layer of dust as everything else, but he couldn’t pinpoint the time any closer to that.
Clay waited for Ellie to move farther into the room so they could perform a quick sweep. Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, a yard or so past the door. Her head and body stood rigid as she stared straight ahead. Alarm bells clanged in his head. Clay moved to the side, to figure out what held her so transfixed. When he did, the acid burned halfway up his esophagus.
A chair sat in the middle of the space. Empty, save for the blood pooling on the plastic seat. “Shit.”
Clay approached the chair and squatted, careful to avoid stepping into another red puddle on the floor. A quick dip of his finger into the red, viscous liquid told him what he needed to know. “Still warm compared to the ambient temperature in here. Whoever was here hasn’t been gone long.”
Clay dropped his gaze to the floor. That change in perspective showed him what he’d missed on his w
ay in. Blood. He pointed out the thin squiggles, camouflaged by the dark, stained concrete…unless you were looking. “See those two red lines there?”
His question snapped Ellie out of her trance. She studied the spot. “Drag marks?”
“Definitely.” Clay rose and followed the parallel bloody streaks until they stopped at the door. “And there, see how the lines disappear and are replaced by drops? That’s good news.”
Frank hovered outside the room, frowning at the floor. “What? You think someone or two someones picked him up and carried him?”
“I do.”
Frank grunted his agreement while Ellie’s head whipped back and forth between the drag marks and the drips. Frustrated green eyes connected with his. “Do you think Gabe’s still alive?”
Clay didn’t want to lie, and he didn’t want to give false hope either. “Alive when they left this room. Why bother carrying a messy, bleeding dead man when you’re worried the cops are hot on your trail?”
Relief lit up her face, but only for a moment. Frustration was like a living thing crawling over her features. “I can’t believe Kingsley outsmarted us again.”
“Hey guys, you’d better come check this out.”
Clay and Ellie hurried over to where Frank waited to usher them into another room. Clay entered first and let out a long, low whistle. “That bastard saw us coming from a mile away.” He circled the room, counting ten large monitors spaced out along tables that lined up against the walls. Each monitor featured a different video feed. One of them came from a camera positioned along the road on their drive in. The remaining cameras provided images from outside the warehouse and from various points within.
Ellie scooted over to the tables for a closer look. Her harsh inhalation a moment later made Clay’s head whip up.
“What is it?”
“He left me a note.” Her voice trembled, and Clay thought he heard more anger than fear in the words.
Clay rushed to her side, his throat dry. What had Kingsley done now?
He found his answer when he spied the white piece of paper. The careful, neat way the edges lined up perpendicular to the table made the message all the more grisly.