by J. L. Drake
Sonya laughed.
“Good idea,” she said, shaking her head. “You need something to entertain them while they’re boycotting.”
Jan laughed as well, and nodded.
“Thanks for helping—it made it go faster and I wasn’t in the mood to be alone tonight,” she said, rubbing her arms and looking at the floor.
“No problem,” Sonya said. “I wasn’t either.”
Jan looked up and Sonya smiled at her.
“Thank you,” Jan said, and hugged Sonya.
“I better go,” Sonya said, hugging back. “You get some rest—there’s still a lot to do before the move.”
“Don’t remind me,” Jan said with a sigh.
“You’ll get there,” Sonya assured her. “Do you want me to help with the move?”
“Yes, that would be great,” Jan said.
“Okay, I’ll see you Saturday,” Sonya said, opening the front door to leave. “Call me if you find anything out in the meantime or just need to talk.” She waved and walked out into the cool night air.
“I will,” Jan called after her, waved, and closed the door.
Sonya waved back, rushed to her car, and got in. She glanced at the clock in the dash as she started the engine and sighed. The glowing lights indicated it was close to midnight, and she still needed to call Miles—she wasn’t looking forward to talking to him.
She decided to get the call over with while she was waiting for her car to warm up.
She dialed his number and waited through six rings—she was about to hang up when he finally answered.
“Hello?” Miles said in a groggy voice.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
“No, you didn’t—I’m awake, playing a video game, actually. I’m happy you called. I’ve missed you. Are you okay? You didn’t come to work today…”
“I’ve been sick,” she said. “I won’t be at work again tomorrow…” she paused to fake a cough, “…but I should be back the day after.”
“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” he said. “Do you want me to come over and take care of you?”
“You don’t need to do that,” she said. “I’ll be fine and back to work very soon. The reason I was calling was to tell you that the FBI is in town and will be looking into the missing persons case. Depending on what they figure out, they might be checking hospitals and morgue records in the next couple of days.”
He was quiet for a moment and then what she’d said sank in.
“What am I supposed to do if they show up?” he asked in a rush. “What if they look at the paperwork? What am I supposed to tell them? I’m not good at lying, you know!”
“I don’t know,” Sonya said, gritting her teeth, “but you do need to calm down. You said there shouldn’t be any problems with the paperwork because of the car crash. If you can, just make sure you covered your tracks well, and stay calm if they talk to you.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved…” he whined. “I don’t want to go to prison. I’m not made for this…I can’t handle this kind of pressure.”
“Miles,” she said, “I have to go. Just take care of things and make sure everything clicks with the paperwork. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I’ll take care of things,” he said. He took a couple of deep breaths. “Feel better soon. Bye.”
Sonya hung up, sighing with relief at having gotten off the phone with him so easily, and without having to promise to fuck him again.
She put her car in drive and went home. As she went inside and got ready for bed, she couldn’t help but wish Lloyd was there with her.
But even missing him, she fell asleep with ease once she’d laid down in bed.
***
Lloyd started his car and pulled out onto the street to head home. He’d been watching Sonya’s house for hours, wondering where she was and what she was doing. Now that she was home and safely inside, he felt better. The fact no one else was casing the place also made him feel better because he knew the FBI hadn’t found her yet.
While he’d waited, he’d been on the phone, calling and texting everyone he knew who moved body parts on the black market. He’d warned them about a possible upcoming undercover attempt and asked them to keep him abreast to anyone new who was interested in acquiring human organs. Apparently someone had already been placed undercover and come sniffing around; a couple of detectives in the city had been asking questions about human traffickers and human organ handlers as well.
Jennings had texted him to let him know the harvest was going to happen in a couple of days. His contacts were in place, but he had plans for anyone who was sent undercover for the police or the FBI.
With the harvest details dealt with, he planned to focus his attention on gathering more information on Jennings and the money. He’d already combed through all of the online information he could get his hands on for Jennings, but he had a sneaking suspicion that most of Jennings’ holdings were listed under his wife’s name because he couldn’t find any death records for the woman.
His plan was to do some searches on her to see if he could find bank accounts and other holdings like safe deposit boxes. There was no doubt in his mind that he would find things hidden in plain sight.
When he got home, he was happy to see Butch wasn’t there, and neither was his stuff. He hoped that meant Butch had found his own accommodations and wouldn’t be returning.
He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer, knowing the long night ahead of him without Sonya would be filled with compiling information on his enemy—the man who was funding his murder plot with the money he’d stolen from the team.
Chapter 32
The outside world was still shrouded in darkness when Lloyd called Sonya, and after almost ten rings, she finally answered.
“You awake, beautiful?” he asked playfully.
He heard her mutter something he couldn’t make out and moan. In his mind he pictured her wiggling around in bed and wished he’d just gone over, but then they would have spent the day enjoying each other instead of taking care of business.
“You’ve got to be awake so we can talk,” he said, and chuckled. “This is important.”
He listened to her huff and mutter, “Fine.” Then he heard some loud rustling, and when she spoke again, she sounded a little more awake.
“I’m awake—what?”
“I found it!” he exclaimed excitedly. “I found out where Jennings has been keeping all the money.”
“Oooo, where?” she asked eagerly.
“Banks, under his wife’s name,” he said. “You’re going to be Jennings’ wife when they open, so you better dress pretty.”
Sonya laughed. “Oh, I’ll dress really nice. I have to look amazing while we stick it to him.”
He grinned broadly. They had a good start on taking care of the old bastard and they both knew it.
“I’ll come by to pick you up around seven—we have a long drive,” he said, glancing at the clock, realizing it was 3:45 in the morning. “Sorry to wake you up so early, babe.”
“I don’t mind being woken up by you…I just wish it wasn’t over the phone,” she flirted. “Why don’t you make it up to me? Come over and help me fall back to sleep?”
“I would, sexy,” he said, “but I have a lot to do between now and then. You have to have an ID, don’t you?”
“I guess,” she whined playfully. “I’ll see you in a bit. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
With a wistful sigh, Lloyd got to work making Sonya the identification she would need to get the money from the bank.
***
Butch watched the TV in his cheap motel room, drinking warm beer. He didn’t like having to stay at a motel, but he didn’t know what else to do. Lloyd’s “hole” wasn’t equipped with an extra bed or anything else he needed. Hell, the place didn’t have a TV and he didn’t have any interest in a computer unless he was surfing for porn.
Image
s flashed across the small, out-of-date screen, but he wasn’t paying attention to them. All he could think about was Sonya and all the things he could do to Lloyd before he killed him.
He’d spent the evening going through the hardware stores in the area, buying various items at each one so his purchases wouldn’t be too large or noticeable.
He glanced at the bags in the corner of the room, mentally going over everything he’d bought, believing he had what he needed to make Lloyd’s death a living hell.
“It’s gonna be your funeral, Lloyd,” he said, laughed, and finished off his beer before throwing the empty can across the room at a trash can in the open sink area; he missed and it landed on the filthy, bright colored carpet.
Jennings had called earlier, saying they would need his help to move all the harvesting equipment to the new building, which was fine with him—he didn’t have anything else to do while he waited for the big event.
He stood, belched loudly, and retrieved another beer from the box sitting on a small table in the corner. He cracked it open and downed half of it before returning to the bed, this time to think about how he was going to spend his one million dollars after the kill.
He fell asleep with a smile on his beer slick lips, and dreamt about the possibilities of his future.
***
Roger couldn’t sleep so he’d decided to go for a drive. He stared out the windshield of his truck as he drove around town. Everything was getting out of control and he didn’t know which way to turn. Lloyd and Sonya were going to kill him, but had changed their minds. Now the three of them were going to kill Jennings, but Jennings had hired Butch to kill Lloyd. The only person who didn’t have someone plotting on their life was Sonya, which he found amusing because he knew she would kill any of them in a heartbeat if she had to. He suspected that even Lloyd would be in danger if she was in the wrong mood.
The urge to cut and run was strong. He’d been so tempted to pack up his few belongings and disappear that it had led to his early morning drive.
He needed the money from the harvest to make his dreams come true, so he knew leaving would be a bad idea, and there was no guarantee the others wouldn’t catch up with him later and kill him then. He wondered if he should plan some killing of his own and get away clean, leaving no one other than Peter who would ever know what he’d been up to for the last few years. The problem was, killing wasn’t really his thing—he preferred to leave that to Jennings and Sonya since they didn’t seem to have a problem with it.
His thoughts continued to swirl and twist around each other as he contemplated his past. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t even tried to sleep. He still didn’t know if he could help harvest the children because his conflicting emotions had him in knots trying to figure out what he should do.
He’d never thought of what they did in the purest of senses, but he knew they were saving many lives by sacrificing one, and while the figures were in his head it was okay. Just the thought of killing a child that was so full of promise, of healthy life, seemed like a rape of nature—an abomination.
Despite his feelings, he knew no one else on the team would listen to him, so it would be senseless for him to talk about it with them. He determined to just steel his nerves, get through it, go his own way after, and never look back.
By the time he headed for home, the sky was warming into tones of purple and pink and the world was waking up. It was a pure, fresh moment and clarity came to his mind for one blinding second.
What they were going to do was wrong and greedy.
Tears pricked his eyes and his throat tightened as he watched parents telling their kids bye at bus stops, sending them off to school along his route home.
How am I going to get through this? he wondered as he pulled up to his small house.
He sat in his truck and wept until the helpless feeling left him, and then he went into his house to get ready to help Jennings move the harvest equipment to a new building.
***
Jennings awoke bright and early just as the rays of the sun were peeking over the tree line in the distance. He watched it through the kitchen window as he filled the coffee pot at the sink.
“It’s going to be a great day,” he said aloud, and smiled.
Inside Jennings’ head, a soft feminine voice responded, telling him the job would be over soon, and that indeed made the world a wonderful place.
“I couldn’t agree more, my love,” he said, dumping the water into the coffee maker. “Did I tell you I hired someone to kill Lloyd?”
The voice responded with a gleeful squeal and he imagined a warm embrace from his loving wife, even pausing in his coffee making actions to turn and embrace air.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” he said. “I’m going to take a shower—save me some coffee.”
He left the kitchen, smiling happily, knowing he was doing the right thing for himself and his wife.
***
“Okay,” Sonya said, climbing into Lloyd’s car in a smart light gray pants suit. “Where are we going?”
“To the bank,” Lloyd said. “You look really nice.”
She smiled sweetly and nodded.
“Thanks,” she said. “Want me to tell you what I’m wearing under this suit?” She waggled her eyebrows.
Lloyd took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You better not tell me,” he said. “I need to concentrate on what we’re doing.”
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“We’re going to the bank and you’re going to be Mrs. Jennings,” he said. “You’re going to transfer funds to a new bank account, which I set up last night. There’s a safe deposit box too, but I don’t know that we’ll be allowed near it without the key…you’ll have to pretend you lost it and see.”
“Sounds…interesting,” she said. “Whose name is the new account in?”
“Well, its set up as a company account…” he said, and grinned, “…L&S, Inc.”
Sonya laughed and shook her head.
“Brilliant,” she said. “Why am I transferring the money there? I mean, they’re bound to ask…”
“You don’t have to tell them,” he said. “Just act all pissed because it’s your money and you don’t need them getting into your business.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said. “Do you think they’ll alert Jennings to the transactions?”
“That, I don’t know,” Lloyd said, frowning. “He could have alerts and updates from the bank going directly to his phone for all I know, but by then I’ll have the money transferred into another account and it won’t matter.”
“How are you going to do that?” she asked. “Where are you going to be while I’m being Mrs. Jennings?”
He glanced over at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road.
“I’m going to be in the car watching the money on my laptop and talking to the bank with the new account on the phone,” he said.
“Will that work?” she asked with a frown. “I mean, will they just transfer that much money that fast?” She paused. “How much money is it, anyhow?”
“I’m taking care of things,” he said. “Just focus on being Mrs. Jennings. It’s a lot of money—grab the folder lying behind my seat.”
Sonya reached behind his seat and lifted a light beige folder from the floor. She opened it and examined the contents. Instantly, her eyes went wide and she glanced at Lloyd with her mouth open.
He laughed at her awed expression.
“That’s a lot of money,” she finally muttered, returning her eyes to the papers she held in front of her while Lloyd drove. “Did he steal all of this from us?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m assuming he makes a good bit being a doctor, and that he or his wife came from money.”
She nodded and kept reading.
“So, we’re just going to waltz in there and take all this?” she asked.
“He won’t need it when he’s dead,” Lloyd said.
“No, h
e won’t,” she whispered.
Chapter 33
With a list of all the Pittsburgh hospitals in his hand and his laptop in his shoulder bag, Agent David McCoy strolled through the door of the FBI office as soon as they opened. He knew there wouldn’t be a bunch of people at the office yet, but he wanted to be there to get a jump on the day. Once he got settled, checked the woman’s picture, and the searches Limmon had set up for him, he planned to call Detective Jones and see if she could help get an officer undercover as someone who was seeking human organs for black market trade. From the research he’d done on harvested organs, he knew they had an extremely limited shelf life, so he was banking it might be hard to get them all sold before they went bad, which meant another fence might be appealing if there were a lot of organs to move. He hoped there weren’t, but he’d seen the volume of missing persons cases that were filed within weeks of each other.
He didn’t have any trouble getting through security. Again, he was on the list of expected guests. He did take the guest pass offered to him this time, since he planned to be working there for a while and he wanted to be able to walk in and out of the building any time he pleased.
When he reached the floor of the office building he’d been directed to, he wasn’t surprised to see it was fairly vacant.
One woman, sitting at her desk, spotted him and came over to greet him. She was somewhat short, had auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, and looked to be in her early thirties. She wore a pair of black tailored slacks and a dark blue V-neck t-shirt that matched her eye color.
“Hi,” she said, holding her hand out to him. “I’m Agent Croce. You must be Agent McCoy. We’ve been expecting you.”
“Yes,” he said, shaking her hand and smiling. “That’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t stop by yesterday—I had some things to take care of elsewhere.”
“It’s not a problem,” she said. “We’ve received the case file and interview video you had the police send over. We’ve also received some information from the Memphis field office for you.”