Next Exit, Use Caution

by CW Browning

  “He’s tied up in the woods,” he said after he swallowed. “I’ll need you to give me a hand.”

  “You tried to carry a dead weight?!” she exclaimed. “No wonder you need an ice pack, you idiot!”

  “He’s dead?!” Angela shrieked. “What do you mean he’s dead?!”

  Michael choked back a laugh as Alina and Damon stared at Angela.

  “No one said he was dead,” Damon finally said with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “Why would he tie up a dead man?” Alina added, her brows furrowed. “That’s a waste of time.”

  “But you just said–”

  “Dead weight, not dead body!” said Alina as she realized the confusion. “As in, unconscious, dead weight.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do we plan on leaving him out there indefinitely?” Michael asked from the recliner, his feet up. “How long has he been there?”

  Damon shrugged and glanced at Angela.

  “I don’t know, maybe an hour? What do you think?”

  “More like forty minutes,” she said thoughtfully, looking at her watch.

  “Then I doubt he’s still out,” Alina said. “What are you planning on doing with him?”

  “He’s going to turn him over to the police,” Angela said before Damon could open his mouth.

  Alina’s eyebrow soared into her forehead and she looked at Damon, clearly amused.

  “Is that so?” she asked.

  “That is not what I said.”

  Angela looked at him with wide eyes.

  “Yes it is!” she argued. “You said justice would take care of him. When I asked what that meant, you said the proper authority would handle it.”

  Michael started coughing in his recliner, his shoulders shaking and a hand covering the bottom half of his face. Alina felt a grin pulling at her lips and sternly repressed it.

  “I’ll go make sure he’s ready for delivery,” she said, her eyes dancing.

  Damon began to stand and the laugh left her eyes. She shook her head and held him down with a hand on his shoulder.

  “Oh no you don’t,” she said. “I go. You stay.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he objected. “I know where I left him.”

  “Then you can tell me.”

  Michael sighed and lowered his feet, standing.

  “This is where I think I step in,” he announced. “As the ranking Federal agent present, I’ll take care of him.”

  Damon and Alina looked at him.

  “Your rank means exactly nothing to me,” she said bluntly. “Trent’s mine.”

  Michael’s green eyes met hers squarely and his jaw hardened.

  “We’ll discuss this outside,” he said shortly. “He’s probably awake and could be gone, for all we know. We need to get moving.”

  “He might be awake, but I can guarantee he’s not gone,” Damon said, a grin on his lips.

  Alina saw it and crooked an eyebrow curiously.

  “Only one way to make sure,” Michael said, turning toward the door. “Where is he?”

  Damon was silent for a moment, then sighed.

  “Head southeast,” he told them. “He’s tied to a tree about halfway to the road.”

  Alina nodded and followed Michael to the back door.

  “Angie, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, like let a couple terrorists out of Gitmo, until I get back,” she said over her shoulder, drawing a laugh from Damon.

  She stepped onto the deck and closed the door behind herself.

  “Why would he let terrorists out of Gitmo?” Michael asked, his eyebrows raised.

  Alina smiled faintly.

  “Why not? What’s a couple more? We’re already in for a penny, might as well go in for a pound.”

  Michael glanced at her and they descended the steps, starting across the grass toward the trees.

  “How is he?” he asked seriously. “That’s the first I’ve seen him acknowledge the injury.”

  “He’s healing,” she said shortly. “He’ll be fine.”

  “You’re worried about him,” said Michael. “Why? I’m sure he’s had worse.”

  Alina glanced at him.

  “I know he has but I need him to be as close to one-hundred percent as he can be. Anything less will get us both killed.”

  “You’re not talking about the shooter from the church.”

  “No.”

  Alina pulled a long, thin Maglite out of her jacket pocket and switched it on as they stepped into the dark trees.

  “What can I do?”

  “You’ve already done it. You found the connection between Dominic and Trasker. The rest is on us.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, following her as she weaved through the pines. “Let me help. I’m a trained weapon at your disposal. Use it.”

  “Don’t be so quick to jump in the fight, gunny. There’s no guarantee you’ll make it out again.”

  “There’s no guarantee I’ll make it through tomorrow either, but I’ll still get out of bed.”

  Silence greeted that and Michael dropped it with a sigh. They moved through the woods quickly, and a few minutes later the light fell across a figure tied to a slender tree trunk.

  Trent appeared to still be unconscious, his head slumped forward. Alina frowned, moving forward. She played the light over his body. He was still tied securely and she bent to look at his face.

  “He’s still out?” Michael asked incredulously. “What the hell did he do to him?”

  Alina looked up from beside him.

  “I don’t think this was him,” she said dryly.

  She stood up and shone the Maglite around the trees until she lit on a large, black hawk, settled in a tree not far away.

  “What...again?!”

  “Appears so.” A thread of amusement was in Alina’s voice as she lowered the flashlight back to Trent. “It’s not deep, but it’s right on his temple. It would have been enough to put him under again.”

  “He’s lucky he’s still got his eyes,” he muttered, joining her next to Trent.

  They both looked down at the unconscious man.

  “I can’t let you take him,” Michael finally said. “I need to get answers out of him.”

  Alina glanced at him.

  “And you don’t think I can get information out of him?” she asked, amused again. “Gunny, have you met me?”

  “So far, all we have on him is an attack on Angela and possible tampering with production at Trasker. That hardly falls within your jurisdiction.”

  “I don’t have a jurisdiction. I’m not bound by red tape.”

  “No, you’re bound by international law,” he shot back, “and you’re stateside.”

  Alina pursed her lips.

  “Actually, we have something else on him,” she admitted after a minute. “Stephanie called me in the car. It looks like he’ll soon be the prime suspect in four unsolved murders in Miami.”

  Michael stared at her.

  “What?”

  “Four women, all from buildings he lived in, disappeared. Their bodies were later recovered. The police have had no leads, until now.”

  “And Stephanie thinks it was him?”

  “Not just Stephanie, but another agent down there.”

  Michael ran a hand over his short hair.

  “What the hell?” he exclaimed. “How do you guys manage to attract these people? For God’s sake!”

  “It wasn’t me this time,” she protested with a laugh. “It was Angie!”

  “Even worse!” He looked down at Trent. “You’re definitely not getting him now. This is an FBI issue. I’ll take him, question him, then hand him over.”

  “And he’ll be out and free in twenty-four hours.”

  “Maybe so, but he’ll be alive to stand trial,” Michael retorted.

  “True enough,” she conceded sheepishly. “I can’t make that guarantee if I interrogate him.”

  “I know.”

  Alina look
ed down at Trent thoughtfully.

  “I’ll let you take him on one condition,” she said slowly.

  “I wasn’t asking your permission,” said Michael wryly, “but what’s your condition?”

  “Find out how the hell he knew to target Angie.”

  Chapter Forty

  Angela settled herself in the recliner with her glass of wine and looked at Damon. He was sitting up on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table, ankles crossed. He had a tablet in his lap and was scrolling through something, his attention focused on the screen. She sipped her wine, studying him over the rim of the glass.

  “Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” he asked, not lifting his eyes from the tablet.

  “Just wondering why you had surgery,” she said readily. “Why aren’t you taking pain killers if you’re still in pain?”

  Damon raised his head and looked at her.

  “Why would I take drugs when I can still function?”

  She shrugged.

  “Why fight pain when there are other options?”

  “I wouldn’t call this pain,” he said, turning his attention back to the tablet. “More of a mild inconvenience.”

  “What did you have surgery for?” she asked a moment later. “You didn’t say.”

  Damon sighed imperceptibly and looked up again.

  “I was shot.”

  Angela’s mouth dropped open.

  “What?!” she exclaimed. “When?”

  “Last week.”

  “What happened? And why aren’t you in the hospital? When I was shot, I was in the hospital for two weeks. Where were you shot?”

  “In my side.”

  Angela waited expectantly, frowning when no further information was forthcoming.

  “How did Lina know?” she asked, trying a different tack. “I mean, it’s not like you work together. You’re in Homeland Security, and she’s a private consultant.”

  Damon shrugged, remembering that Angela still believed he worked for the DHS.

  “We’re friends,” he said evasively. “I told her.”

  “What’s the story with you two?” Angela asked, sipping her wine. “You sure visit a lot, but you never stay long, and it’s weeks or months before you come back.”

  Damon crooked an eyebrow.

  “Why so interested?” he asked.

  “Why are you both so secretive about it? I can’t make it out. What’s the big deal?”

  He smiled faintly.

  “I think you’re the only one making it a big deal,” he said. “It’s not much of a mystery. We both travel extensively and our schedules don’t line up often.”

  Angela pursed her lips and tilted her head.

  “Do you ever plan on not traveling extensively?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I assume you’re going somewhere with all this? I’m sure my future travel plans aren’t that interesting to you.”

  She shrugged.

  “I’m just thinking, you’re not getting any younger and opportunities like the one staring both of you in the face don’t happen all that often. If you keep leaving Lina alone for months at a time, there’s no guarantee she’ll be here next time you roll into town. I’m not trying to be the voice of doom or anything, but that’s the truth. You two have something special going on. You should grab it with both hands and not let go.”

  Damon studied her for a long moment.

  “How long did it take you to think up that speech?” he asked finally, his blue eyes dancing.

  “I just came up with it,” she said with a grin. “How was it?”

  “Good,” he admitted. “A little extreme, but good.”

  Angela sipped her wine.

  “I have my moments.”

  The door to the deck slid open and Alina stepped into the living room, closing the door behind her. Angela turned in the recliner to look at her.

  “Where’s Michael?” she asked, looking behind her.

  “He’s taken Trent into custody. He’s driving him to the field office in the city,” Alina said, glancing at her glass of wine. “Is there any of that left?”

  “Yes. The bottle is on the counter in the kitchen.”

  Alina nodded and went into the kitchen.

  “You let the gunny take him?” Damon demanded, getting up and following her into the kitchen.

  “I didn’t have much of a choice,” she said, pouring herself a glass of the red wine. “Stephanie called. It’s looking like he’s been a very bad boy, and it is definitely FBI jurisdiction now. Michael is going to question him about Trasker, then turn him over to the Feds.”

  Damon opened the fridge and reached in to pull out a bottle of beer.

  “Since when did jurisdiction ever stop you?”

  “Since I have other issues to worry about,” she said, sipping the wine. “They can take him. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

  “What did he do?” Angela called from the living room. “And will you two come back in here where I can hear?”

  Alina grinned and turned to walk around the bar into the living room, Damon close behind. She found his presence behind her comforting and sighed silently. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get used to having him around.

  Rounding the sofa, she sank onto it and set her wine glass on the coffee table. She bent to undo the laces on her boots, pulling them off as Damon settled down next to her.

  “Well?” Angela prompted.

  Alina glanced up at her as she pulled the second boot off.

  “Are you sure you want to hear?”

  “No, but tell me anyway.”

  Alina set the boots aside and pulled her feet up onto the couch, curling comfortably into the corner. Damon handed her the wine glass, and she smiled in thanks.

  “I asked Steph to see what she could find on Trent,” she told Angela. “Turns out he’s moved four times in four years. In each place he’s lived, a woman disappeared. Their bodies turn up a few months later. It’s an ongoing investigation and there have been no real leads, until now. Stephanie had an agent start interviewing people who knew the victims. Two of them knew Trent, yet he denied having met them when the police interviewed him. He just jumped to the top of the suspect list.”

  Angela stared at her.

  “Do you mean to tell me, you think Trent is a...is a...”

  “Serial killer?” Alina provided helpfully. “Yes.”

  Angela gulped and lifted her wine glass, draining it. She got up wordlessly and went into the kitchen for a refill.

  “I think she’s taking it well,” Damon said. “Considering you just kind of dropped it on her.”

  “She asked!”

  Angela came back a moment later.

  “And he was in my house? Are we sure it was him that night?”

  “Yes. I saw the bandages on his neck where you stabbed him,” Damon said, sipping his beer. “I mean, unless someone else stabbed him in the neck in the past few days.”

  Angela sank down into the recliner, looking stunned.

  “Oh my God. I could have been...he could have–”

  “Yes, but he didn’t,” Alina said briskly, not liking the look on her friend’s face. “No point in worrying about what could have happened and didn’t.”

  “Why me?” Angela asked, sitting back with her wine. “What made him come after me?”

  Alina glanced at Damon and saw the warning in his eyes.

  “I don’t know,” she said smoothly. “He’s been watching you since he got up here, though. He’s got hundreds of surveillance photos of you on his computer.”

  “What?!” Angela shrieked. “How do you know?”

  “I saw them,” Alina said calmly. “I went to his hotel and went through his room. Not only are there photos of you and your house, but he also has shots of you and Stephanie having dinner.”

  Angela shivered.

  “That’s just terrifying,” she said, drinking some more wine.

  “Please tell me you have copies of thos
e?” Damon asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Why? Why was he following me? Was he planning it all along?” Angela demanded. “This is unreal. I mean, you hear of this stuff happening, but you never think it will happen to you!”

  “I think your flat tire was him,” said Alina. “I think he was counting on you not seeing it and getting stranded at the side of the road.”

  Angela gasped.

  “He was there!” she exclaimed. “That night! I came out of work and saw the flat, and he just kind of appeared out of nowhere. He offered to drive me home, but Stephanie was coming. I thought he was just being overbearingly chauvinistic when he insisted on trying to help.”

  Alina sipped her wine, tamping down the fresh surge of anger welling up inside her. If it wasn’t for pure chance, Trent could have taken Angie before she even got back. Her lips tightened grimly. Angela would have been gone before Viper realized she had become a pawn in the Trasker mess.

  “If Trent is the one behind the break-in, can I go home now?” Angela suddenly asked, drawing Alina away from her thoughts.

  Alina shrugged.

  “Yes, if you want. If you don’t, you’re welcome to stay longer.”

  Angela stared into her wine glass thoughtfully.

  “I’ll see how I sleep tonight,” she said after a moment. “This is a lot to take in. If I have problems sleeping, I might stay a few more days.”

  Alina studied her for a moment, then nodded.

  “You’re welcome as long as you need to stay.”

  “He’ll be locked up, right?” Angela asked suddenly, raising her gaze to hers.

  Alina’s eyes hardened.

  “Oh, he will be taken care of,” she assured her, her voice like ice, “one way or another.”

  Senator Carmichael stared across the room at the paneled wall opposite, his mind clamoring to grasp what he’d just read. It didn’t seem possible. This morning, everything was going perfectly according to plan. Now, ten hours later, everything had fallen apart, and he had no idea when, how, or why.

  He stood up, his legs feeling weak, and walked around his desk to the sideboard where a decanter and glasses sat on a silver tray. Special Agent Blake Hanover was supposed to be suspended, and his cases turned over to another agent; an agent who would not look twice at an upstart businessman from New Jersey who used street racers to run product up and down the coast. Robert picked up the decanter, his hand trembling, and splashed some whiskey into a glass. As of this morning, Hanover was out of it, and it was clear sailing. The decanter landed on the tray with a click and he lifted the glass to his lips.