Diamonds & Deception

by Ellen Butler

  “Then I’ll be off the hook,” she said with relief, and rose. “I can go?”

  “Au contraire, I don’t believe you had anything to do with the diamonds.” I placed a hand on the passport. “The money didn’t come from the sale of the diamonds.”

  Her butt plopped back down on the metal chair.

  “I believe your money came from your courier jobs.”

  She swallowed and her gaze darted around the room. “It came from all my jobs. After all, I have three of them. I’ve worked hard for that money,” she said defensively.

  I knew better. “Really?” I tapped a finger against my chin. “You know, I went with my sister on one of those jobs. Tell me, Sadira,” I said in a menacing voice, leaning toward her, “besides young girls, what else do you ‘courier’? Drugs? Money? Weapons?”

  Her face paled with each shot I delivered.

  “You see, that’s where I think the money came from.”

  “Never open the package, never speak to the passenger,” she said as if by rote.

  My mouth pinched. “Come off it, Sadira. You had to have known something wasn’t right. Especially the girls.”

  Her expression shifted from fear to defiance. “So? Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. You’re my lawyer. We have privilege. There’s nothing you can do,” she spat.

  “No, ma’am.” My fist slammed down on the table, making Sadira jump. “That is not how this is going to go. I’m your lawyer for an alleged diamond theft. I’ve signed no papers to represent you as an accomplice to major crimes. You see those two men standing in the hall?” Her gaze followed my pointing finger. “Police. I’m here because your gang friends kidnapped my sister. If she’s still alive and you help me find her, I’ll do what I can to work a deal for you. If you don’t help us, and she winds up dead, I’ll make sure they charge you as an accomplice to murder. Which carries twenty-five to life.” Offhand, I didn’t know the exact penalties for accomplice to murder, and I couldn’t get her charged as an accomplice—the most she could be charged with was an accessory to murder, and even that would be a stretch—but I was betting she wouldn’t have enough legal knowledge to know any of that.

  Sadira turned white and tucked her chin. “They took Jillian?” she whispered.

  “Look at me,” I demanded, and I snapped my fingers in front of her face. Once I had her attention, I said in a low, menacing tone, “As God as my witness, Sadira Manon, if you do not help me right now” —I tapped the table for emphasis— “I will make it my mission in life to make your life a living hell.”

  “I don’t know what I can tell you that will help,” she whispered.

  “Where did you deliver packages? Specifically, the girls,” I snapped.

  “Different places, and I don’t have the addresses to all of them.”

  I pointed at Perez and Rick and crooked a finger. Perez opened the door.

  “You got a pad and pencil?”

  Perez nodded and pulled a small notebook and pen out of his pocket. I took it and closed the door.

  “Write it down. Every rat house and hellhole you’ve ever been to on your courier job,” I barked, tossing them on the table.

  I paced like a caged animal as she muttered and sputtered, writing down half-addresses like, “There was this place off of 32nd Street, it had a gray door and green shutters.” Her hands shook as she wrote, but I had zero capacity to feel pity. I could only imagine how angry Jessica would be with me. Again, I didn’t care. All I cared about was something, anything that would provide me the smallest speck of hope in finding Jillian.

  When she finished, I photographed each page and texted them to Josh and Rick. “The detective outside wants to meet with you.”

  She clutched at my hand with pleading, wet eyes, and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d kidnap her. I like Jillian. She’s a sweet girl. You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t know.”

  Disgusted, I pulled my hand out of her grasp. “I suggest you make a deal and spill your guts to the detective. I’m removing myself as your council.”

  I opened the door and handed the notebook to Perez. “She’s all yours.”

  Chapter Twenty

  On the way out to Rick’s car, I listened to Jessica’s message. Luckily, her voicemail from earlier was simply to check in. She’d been so swamped with the emergency at her own office, she had no idea of the chain of events that happened today. I texted, telling her I’d be removing myself from Sadira’s legal team, and she’d better get someone down to the pokey, because although the diamond case would soon be cleared up, Sadira had fresh skeletons in her closet.

  “Cardinal, we need to move.” Rick’s tone was curt. He took my arm and hustled me through the parking lot.

  “What’s the word on the street?” I asked, slipping the phone back into my purse.

  “A lot.” He opened the car door and I levered myself into the front seat.

  “Don’t keep me in suspense. Spill.”

  Rick got in and started the car. “The FBI scooped up a dealer and PJ. PJ is an addict and local snitch. He’s squawking like a parrot. They’ve sent local PD to surveille a warehouse off Edsall Road, a home near I-495, two apartment complexes in Alexandria, one in D.C., and a massage parlor on Q Street. The dealer isn’t talking, they’re sweating him for a bit.” Rick wheeled around a corner fast enough to make the tires squeal, turning onto Route 50. “Your jeweler tried to fence the diamonds and was caught up in the sting. Which means Sadira will be cleared of that crime soon. My boys back at the office have your sister’s phone. She had her GPS on, and they are working on identifying the route the phone took through GPS and street cameras before getting dumped at the park.” He delivered the news concisely but with an edge to his tone.

  “How will that help? I would think we’re more interested in where they went after losing the phone than before.”

  “We want to see if they switched cars. Also, Hernandez’s contact gave him a neighborhood not far from where the phone was dumped.” He sped through a yellow light that turned red as we drove under it.

  “Wait. I think Sadira placed two homes in that area. Let me check.” I pulled up the series of photos.

  “She wrote down two, neither of which she had an actual address for,” Rick stated.

  “But she had a street name for one of them.” I zoomed in on each picture, searching for the missing piece.

  “Yes.” Then, without effort, he reeled off the neighborhood and street name. “Hernandez and Joshua are headed there now.”

  “Where are they coming from?”

  “D.C. Their meeting with the informant was in Southeast.” He thundered up the entrance ramp onto the Capital beltway.

  “Let’s head over. We’ll probably get there before they will.” The sun dipped low; the fiery ball headed toward the horizon, leaving streaks of oranges and pinks reflected in the clouds. The minute hand on my watch approached ten ‘til eight. “We don’t have much daylight left.”

  “I’m not taking you there.”

  “What? Why not?” I gaped at his profile.

  “I’m taking you back to HQ.”

  “Why? What’s going on at HQ?”

  “Your safety.”

  “No. I want to go back to the neighborhood with the park.” I crossed my arms and stared out the windshield. We blew past other vehicles as if they were standing still.

  “It’s too dangerous,” he spoke in short, clipped tones.

  “I’ll stay in the car. I’ll be safe in the car,” I argued.

  “I need to get you out of sight.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re not safe on the street.”

  “I’ll be fine. Do you have a baseball cap I can borrow? Look, I’ll tuck my hair up underneath like this—” I wrapped my hair in a low bun as I explained my plan.

  “This isn’t up for debate,” he said in his no-nonsense manner.

  I’m sure his former soldiers and current staff never would have considered arguing with his
orders once delivered. I was neither. We arrived at the Springfield mixing bowl where three highways and a couple of local roads merged at once. If you weren’t paying attention, it was easy to end up heading the wrong direction.

  I waited for Rick to get in the correct lane and wheel us onto the I-395 highway heading north to D.C. before responding, “I’m the client. I want to go with Joshua and Hernandez. You can stick me out of sight in the back of the van.” I delivered a firm look at his profile.

  “Forget it. I’m taking you to the office,” he snapped. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles blanched. Rick was usually more collected when dealing with my shenanigans.

  My Spidey senses perked up and the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. “There is something wrong. What’s going on?”

  We decelerated behind a slower moving car, then Rick, seeing an opening, shot across two lanes, put his foot down and accelerated with such force it threw me back against the leather seat. He was on edge. I’d never seen him this way.

  “Uh, Rick?”

  “MS-13 put a contract out on your head,” he gritted out.

  “Charming,” I drawled.

  “This isn’t a joke, Cardinal. Now we don’t just have to worry about MS-13 gang members coming after you, any asshole with a gun in need of five grand will be looking for you. There are way too many idiots around here with guns for my taste.”

  “Five grand! That’s all I’m worth?” I squawked.

  “Dead. If you’re brought in alive, the price goes up to ten.”

  My snarky confidence deflated, and my lips curled in as a queasiness filled the back of my throat. I desperately tried to block out the tortures they could inflict should I be captured alive.

  Rick took his eyes off the road to flick a glance at my profile, which must have reflected some of my thoughts. “Exactly.”

  I swallowed. “When did this happen?”

  “While you were with Sadira.”

  “Is it word on the street? Or did they put out a formal hit on the dark web?”

  My question must have surprised him, because his head gave a little jerk. “On the street. Hernandez’s informant mentioned it in passing.”

  I sunk down in my seat. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

  “When we got back to the office. Relax.” I didn’t know if he was talking to me or telling himself, because his grip visibly loosened. “I doubt anyone knows you’re with me. And it’s not like they’ll be taking potshots while we’re doing seventy on the highway.”

  “They do it in the movies all the time. A sharpshooter could set up on an overpass.”

  He gave a derisive snort. “Well-planned stunts. And I don’t think a mercenary sharpshooter is leaving his couch for five grand. But, if it’ll make you feel better, check the floorboards of the back seat. There should be a ballcap.”

  Of course, it wasn’t behind Rick. I had to climb halfway around my own seat, knocking Rick in the shoulder with my butt, to retrieve the black and orange hat. “I didn’t know you were an Orioles fan.”

  “I’m not. Someone gave it to me.”

  “That explains why it’s so stiff.” I curled the brim and adjusted metal buckle in back.

  We rode in silence for a time, but the further away we got from Ashton Heights and the closer to D.C., the more anxious I became. My fingers knit and unknit themselves and I chewed the inside of my cheek so much I tasted blood.

  If I’m this freaky on the way, what’s going to happen when we arrive at Silverthorne? An image of an old Bugs Bunny cartoon came to mind—Bugs finds himself on a rocket ship heading away from Earth, and the audience watches as he spazzes and screams hysterically in the window. My own mind was doing a similar impression, and I feared Bugs might escape through my mouth when we arrived at Silverthorne. I had no interest in making a fool of myself—or being sedated, which I wouldn’t put beyond Rick.

  I cleared my throat to be heard over the grumble of the engine. “Take the next exit.”

  “Why?”

  It was coming up too quickly, leaving me no time for debate. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Rick tore across two lanes, receiving the beep-beep of a horn from an indignant driver, to get off at the exit. He found a shoulder and pulled to the side. I opened the door but didn’t make a move to get out.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I mustered my courage, drawing deep breaths to steady myself before turning to face him. “I can’t go to Silverthorne right now. Maybe later. Now, I need to be in the field with the rest of the crew providing any sort of help I can. And, before you say it, I realize the risks. If you stick me in the bubble of your secure building—I. Will. Go. Nuts.” I clenched my fists. “Seriously, I want you to think how you’d feel if you were in my situation. You’re not a man of inactivity. Neither am I a man—” I shook my head “—woman who can sit around doing nothing. Helping you will help me keep my mind off the worst-case scenarios. It’s the only reason you haven’t seen me lose my shit. I have to be a part of this, keep moving forward. Get it? Some women could just sit back, wringing their hands while the big boys did their thing. That’s not me.”

  Rick’s scrutiny remained noncommittal as I spoke. As much as I would have loved to threaten to get out of the car and call an Uber, as I did earlier, I wasn’t foolish enough to carry out that threat now. Nor did I believe Rick would allow me to carry out such a threat. If push came to shove, he’d probably cuff me and toss me in his trunk. I needed Rick. I needed his team. I needed him to understand and give me a chance. I tried my damnedest to maintain “interested neutrality,” a look I’d perfected during law school, as we stared each other down. Every muscle in my body clenched tight. If I flinched first, I expected I’d lose the game. It’s the first time I noticed flecks of green in Rick’s gray eyes. My phone sang out the X-files theme. Neither of us moved.

  Rick blinked and shifted. “Josh says I’d better let you come, or you’ll figure out some other way to put yourself in danger.”

  I’d forgotten the team was in his ear. Normally, I’d deliver a smartass comment or a fist pump, but I refrained, the stakes were too high. Instead, I released the breath I’d been holding.

  “Stay here.” Rick took the keys out of the ignition and, after checking the traffic, exited the car. The trunk went up, and for a moment I feared he’d be putting me in it. A moment later he slammed it shut and came back carrying a bulky black thing. “Put this on.”

  “Is it Kevlar?” Rick helped me get the tactical vest over my head. The straps weighed on my shoulders and I think I felt my spine compress. “Oof. It’s heavy. Why is it so heavy? I thought Kevlar was lighter than this.”

  “It’s got armored plates inside.” He pulled the Velcro straps as tight as they would go and tsked. “It’s also too big.”

  “And unwieldly. What are all these pockets for? Lipstick?” I pulled open one at chest level and peeked inside. Empty.

  “Ammunition, spare weapon, knife, cuffs, grenade, pepper spray—”

  “Duct tape?”

  “If your name is MacGyver.”

  My mouth quirked and my brow rose in shock. “Did you just make a funny?”

  He adjusted a buckle at my shoulder, which wasn’t easy with both of us in a sitting position. “Josh says he has a smaller one for you in the van. You can change when we get there.”

  “Thanks, Josh, always looking out for me.”

  With one more tug, he gave a satisfied grunt. “Let’s go.”

  We got back on the highway, heading south toward our destination.

  “When?”

  “When what?” I asked.

  Rick held up a finger and I realized he was listening to his earbud. “Okay. I’ll tell her.” The finger returned to the wheel. “Josh said you need to call your boyfriend.”

  “Crap. I forgot he phoned. I can’t imagine the conversation with Josh went well.”

  “He’s worried. You left a distressed message?”


  “Ye-ah, I might have been a bit hysterical. My phone’s in my purse.” I went to reach for it and realized I couldn’t. I grunted as I rocked back and forth, trying in vain to lean forward.

  “What are you doing?” He flashed a glance my way.

  “I can’t move. I’m, like, in a hole in this bucket seat, and the vest is cumbersome. How do you function in these? I feel like an overturned turtle. Uh-uh-eouch. Don’t you dare laugh at me.” The hint of smile on his face disappeared, and grabbing the window handle on the door, I heaved myself forward. However, I could only bend so far in the vest, and it wasn’t easy to see around the multitude of pockets on my chest. Sweeping my hand on the floor, it finally connected with the handle of my purse, and I pulled it onto my lap. “How did he know to call Josh?”

  “FBI told him you were in our custody.”

  Great. That’s going to go over like a fart in church. Mike’s message blinked at me. I didn’t bother to listen to it, instead, I dialed him directly.

  “K.C.? Are you alright?” He sounded more concerned than angry which boded well.

  “I’m fine. I’m with Batman.”

  “You’re not at home, are you?”

  “Nooo—”

  “Good. You’ll be safe at Silverthorne.” He actually sounded relieved.

  My lips rolled in. I couldn’t outright lie to him. But, I knew, if I told him where I was headed, it wouldn’t go over well and only worry him more. Instead of disabusing his assumption, I sidestepped by telling him, “Rick has me in an armor-plated vest. It’s really heavy.”

  “Well, that’s good . . . I guess. Don’t take it off unless they tell you to.”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of cool. It has places for my stuff. It’s a purse vest.” I dropped a lip gloss in one of the pockets and slid my sunglasses in another.

  “I’ve spoken with one of the agents on the case. The FBI and local PD on the joint task force are top notch folks. They’re doing everything they can to find your sister,” he said in his reassuring voice.