by J. L. Drake
Together, the five of them—four members of the forensic team and David—traversed every inch of the building. There was plenty of evidence someone had been there. The basement in particular was of interest to David, and he ordered the team to be very thorough; the strong scent of bleach assured him that someone had been trying to cover up some kind of organic evidence.
Sure enough, they found blood—most of it had been contaminated by the cleaning agent, but there were still some small “splatters” around the large area where the bleach had been applied.
As soon as they found evidence of the blood, David whipped out his cell phone and called Croce and Jones to let them know they weren’t wasting their time at the building.
Both sounded excited and Croce said she would let the lab know—there would be a rush put on all the evidence the team brought back.
Chapter 43
Butch didn’t remember much when he woke up late in the afternoon. After he’d left the new building, he’d gone back to his motel room, took a couple of pain killers―with beer―and had gone to sleep. Now he was awake, aching, and in a foul mood. He wanted to rip Roger a new ass for attacking him the way he had, and basically handing him his ass. He wasn’t used to being on the losing end of a fight and he didn’t like how it felt.
He groaned as he climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. When he looked at himself in the mirror and saw his swollen, bruised face, he vowed he would kill Roger, right along with Lloyd. He’d do it for free though, just because he wanted the sucker-punching-bastard dead.
The thought of murdering the two men brought a smile to his face, and Butch blanched with pain as his swollen lip split and started to bleed.
“Both you bastards will pay,” he said, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror while blood dripped from his face into the sink.
***
When David finally made it back to the Pittsburgh FBI office it was starting to get dark. They’d sent out the woman’s photo to all the local news stations, had the lab working double time on all the stuff they’d found in the abandoned factory, and there were still officers out looking for a new building the team might have set up in.
Limmon had put a trace on the nurse’s cell phone, but that hadn’t turned up anything. He figured she’d been smart enough to have dumped it. Hell, for all they knew she’d burned it up with the house and had gotten a new burner phone to use.
David felt like he was caught in a hurricane. There was so much going on, but he was helpless to harness any of the energy around him into anything he could use. The only information he had at his fingertips was the meager information they’d gotten out of the medical examiner. He knew the names of the team members and how many of them there were. They had: Sonya the nurse; Jennings the doctor; Roger and Jack as the muscle; and Lloyd as the fence.
He knew that most of the names wouldn’t do him any good, since they were common first names. “Jennings” was the one that jumped out at him. He’d had Limmon search local medical directories to see if they could find a doctor with the last name of Jennings. He knew it might not be the doctor’s real name, but it was worth a try.
While he waited for any information to turn up and for the lab results to come in, David watched Miles’ interrogation video—Croce had done a great job—and went over the Housen case file again. He couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something and he was determined to figure out what it was.
***
Roger glanced up at the clock on the wall when he woke up on the couch. He noted the time was close to seven and frowned. Sitting up and stretching, he looked around; Sonya still hadn’t arrived. He picked his cell phone up off the coffee table, where he’d laid it earlier, and was even more confused when he noticed there were no messages. Instantly he assumed something was wrong, but he didn’t know what to do. If she’d been caught by the FBI he didn’t want to text her and have them trace it back to him, but he also needed to know if she was all right.
Jennings came to mind, but he made a disgusted noise and shook his head at the thought of talking to him. Lloyd was the next best option. He didn’t know how, but Lloyd always seemed to know where Sonya was and how she was doing.
He sent a text to Lloyd and got up to move around a bit. As he stood, he heard a car pull into his driveway. He rushed over to the window and carefully pulled the blind down just enough to see who it was; his heart was racing from anxiety, but logic told him that if it were the authorities, there would be more than one car.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the car was Sonya’s. Releasing the blind, he rushed to the door leading into the garage. He pushed the button on the wall that opened the main garage door.
He watched her pull in and then pressed the button again, to close the big door and block them from prying eyes. He waited there for her to kill the engine and open her car door.
“Where the hell have you been?” he snapped, stepping out into the garage with his bare feet. “I’ve been worried sick.”
As she opened her mouth to speak, his cell phone rang and he jumped, realizing he still held the device in his hand. He held up his hand, indicating she should wait as he answered it.
Sonya huffed and watched Roger. She realized—a little too late—that she should have called or messaged him and told him what she’d planned on doing before she came to his house.
She listened to Roger as he spoke into the phone and garnered that he’d called Lloyd to check up on her.
He quickly ended the call after barking, “She’s here now. Thanks for calling me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said right away without being prompted. “I should have let you know where I was.”
Roger continued to stare at her with an expectant expression on his face.
She sighed. “I decided to stake out Jan’s house for a bit to see if the FBI or anyone showed up there. No one seemed to be watching her house—other than me.”
“You could have been seen,” he scolded, and dragged his free hand through his already messed up hair. “You were all over the afternoon news and I was worried sick when I woke up and you weren’t here.”
“Damn it!” she exclaimed, yawned loudly. “So they did release my photo? I should have stopped to pick up some hair-dye.” She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I worried you. I should have called.”
He nodded and hugged her back briefly.
“You’re okay and that’s all that matters,” he said, yawning himself. “Did you have anything to eat? I picked up a pizza on the way home and there’s some left in the fridge.”
“That sounds absolutely lovely,” she said, and smiled, wavering slightly on her feet.
“Do you want me to heat you some?” he asked, stepping back into the house.
“No,” she said, following him. “I’ll just eat it cold and pass out. If I don’t get some sleep soon, I won’t get any at all. Tomorrow’s a big day.” She yawned again and covered her mouth with her hand.
Roger laughed and shut the door once she was inside. “Do you want the couch or the bed?”
“I really don’t give a shit,” she said, releasing her bag and letting it drop into a corner of the room before taking a few steps and sitting in a chair at his small dining room table. “Just as long as I can sleep there without being bothered for a couple hours, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“You can have the bed,” Roger said, opening the fridge and withdrawing a square, cardboard box with a pizza printed on it. “I was already sleeping on the couch.”
Sonya smiled, nodded, and eagerly opened the pizza box when he sat it on the table in front of her. She grabbed a slice and took a huge bite.
“Hungry, are we?” he teased. “Would you like something to drink with that?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed with her mouth stuffed completely full.
He opened the fridge again, got her a can of soda, and set it on the table in front of her before occupying one of the other ch
airs at the table.
“Do you think Jan has seen you on TV or the FBI has called her?” he asked, and waited patiently for Sonya to chew and swallow some of her food before answering.
“I don’t know, but I’m hoping not,” she said, and took a sip of the soda after opening it. “They might not bother until the investigation is closed. We’ve never gone after the family of someone we’ve already harvested before, so they might be looking everywhere in the city for us, except at her house.” She took another huge bite of pizza before continuing. “I’m betting they have Miles though, so they probably have our names and descriptions for all of us. The scary part is that he does know about the family harvest. I just hope he can keep his mouth shut until it’s all over.”
“I hope so too,” Roger said, and nodded. “I didn’t even think of that. I’ve been all worried about the FBI getting close to us both today and I forgot all about them having him and what information he might be giving them. Did you tell him how or when we were doing the harvest? Does he know it’s the Housen family we’ll be going after?”
“Yes, he does know it’s the Housen family, and no, he doesn’t know exactly when it’s happening,” she said, and swallowed hard. “I’m hoping he thinks he loves me enough to keep his trap shut about certain things for as long as possible, but we can’t count on anything right now. Did you get ahold of Jennings? Did he go to a hotel?”
“Yup,” Roger said. “I called him right after I talked to you early this afternoon. He didn’t seem too pleased, but he said he’d find other accommodation for tonight and tomorrow. He assumes we should all be out of the city after that.”
Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Sonya munched down pizza, and Roger was lost in his own thoughts.
“How do you think things will go tomorrow if Jan does know?” he finally asked.
Sonya shrugged. “If she does know, we’ll have to pounce fast and knock her out right away—that’ll make getting the kids more complicated. We also don’t know if she has any of her family coming to help. More people would make things harder too. If she doesn’t know about me, I think everything will go fine as long as we don’t overthink everything and get paranoid. And as long as Miles doesn’t betray us, which is why I went and sat on her house tonight. They don’t know anything yet, or someone would have been watching the Housen’s.”
“It’s going to be hard not knowing,” he said. “We’re all a little on edge—some of us more than others.”
“I know…” she said, pausing to look at the last slice of pizza, which she held in her hand, before taking a bite. “…but as long as we’re cautious and not overthinking everything, we should be okay. I mean, what are the chances of them getting to us before we get the family harvest done? Not very high, really.”
He nodded. “You’re right. We’ve never had this much heat before and it has me shaken up.”
She nodded and watched him closely while she finished off her supper.
“You know, it’s okay to be nervous,” she said, swallowing her last bite. “This is a big deal, and like you said, we aren’t used to the heat. We’ll be fine. Stay cool and calm, and stick to the plan.”
He nodded and stood, picking up the empty box and taking it into the kitchen to throw away.
“I guess we better get some sleep,” he said, half-smiling. “That is, if we don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of all the excitement tomorrow.”
Sonya laughed, collected her bag, and headed to the bedroom after they said their goodnights.
Roger picked up the soda can and threw it in the trash with the pizza box, and then headed for the couch. As he lay down, he heard the sound of snoring drift down the hall from the bedroom. He couldn’t help but smile as he too drifted off to sleep.
***
It was obvious to McCoy, Limmon, and Croce that they’d be pulling an all-nighter. They had every single case file that pertained to the investigation spread out on the conference room table, going over anything that could give them any indication of where they could find the team or what their next move would be. They were coming up completely empty.
“This is so lame,” Limmon said, checking his computer again. “Wow, wait a sec.” He started typing rapidly.
“What?” Croce asked, standing and trying to bend over the table to see around to his computer screen.
“What is it?” David asked after swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “Something we can use, I hope.”
“I hope it is too,” Limmon said.
“Well, spit it out already,” Croce said.
Limmon looked at her and grinned. “I have the work and home address of Dr. Jennings.”
“Great,” David said, standing and pulling his suit jacket off the back of the chair he’d been sitting in. “Let’s go check out the residence, since the work office is probably closed.” He glanced at the clock on the wall that told him it was ten o’clock at night. They still didn’t have the lab results from the building back yet. “Limmon, you stay here in case the lab sends the results—that way you can relay information to Croce and myself.” He nodded to her and she collected her jacket as well.
They were out the door and in the parking lot in record time.
“I hope he’s there,” Croce said as she climbed behind the wheel, closed the car door, and buckled her seatbelt.
“So do I,” David said. “We’re running out of time and this puzzle is hard as hell to piece together.”
***
Butch sat on the bed in his motel room, sharpening the metal implements he’d bought at the hardware store. He enjoyed torture and liked to make his own tools for his craft. He planned to make Roger’s death quick, while forcing Lloyd to watch. Then Lloyd would get his turn in the torture seat.
His plans of bloodshed were his companion through the night as he worked, preparing to do what he did best—he wasn’t called Butch the Butcher for nothing.
***
McCoy and Croce parked at the end of the driveway of the address Limmon had given them.
“Do you think we should call in backup?” Croce asked, looking out at the house.
“No,” David said, “they already know we’re onto them. If we make a big fuss, it’ll tip off the doctor to our presence. We need to go in nice and slow. If it were earlier in the day, we could pull the Mormon act and get a feel for who is in the house. But since it’s late, the doctor should be in bed.”
“There are no lights on,” Croce observed. “So, you might be right.”
“Let’s move in,” David said, opening the passenger’s door and climbing out, shutting it behind himself slow and deliberate so as not to make much noise.
Croce followed his lead, doing the same.
They both pulled their service weapons before they advanced toward the house.
Before they moved toward any doors, they went all the way around the house—one going each direction—and met at the front door again.
“Nothing,” Croce whispered.
David nodded and whispered back, “No back door. We’ll go in on three.”
Croce nodded and they moved forward.
David counted on his fingers. When he got to three, he kicked in the door and started clearing the house room by room with his gun held out in front of him at the ready, announcing “Clear!” before moving deeper into the house. Croce followed close behind, watching their backs with her gun ready as well.
When they arrived at the last room—an empty bedroom with a neatly made bed—they knew they’d come up empty again.
“Damn it!” David screamed.
Croce just sighed. “I’ll call in and get the forensic team out here—see if they can find anything that will be helpful.”
David didn’t answer. He just stared at the bed, thinking that at this rate he was sure to fail Daniel—and their mother—yet again.
Chapter 44
By the time McCoy, Limmon, and Croce received the forensic results from the building it was three in the morning. They wer
e all beat and had switched from coffee to energy drinks to try and keep their brains functioning at some semblance of normalcy.
They sat tense while David read through what the team had uncovered during their search of the building. The majority of blood they’d found was AB-Negative, but there were no matches in the system. They’d found a second blood type that was O-Negative—it matched a Jackson Parsons who had a record. Other hairs and fibers had also been found, but they didn’t match anything in the system.
“Not much to go on, but there’s a match to one of the blood samples found—Jackson Parsons,” David finally announced. “That must be the Jack that Miles was talking about. We have a picture of him on file, since he has a record. Limmon,” he paused to look at the young agent, “I think you know what to do.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, smiled, and got to work on releasing “Jack’s” photo to the press.
“Wasn’t Housen’s blood type AB-Negative?” Croce asked, searching through the files on the table to confirm. She picked up the file when she found it. “Yup, he’s AB-Negative. Did we get a sample of his DNA from his wife?”
“I don’t know,” David said. “I’ll call Detective Jones and find out if they collected anything we could get DNA from when the report was filed. Or if they’ve already run tests on something they have and we haven’t been informed yet. I expect it to be his blood though—we already know we’re on the right track. It’s just a matter of catching up with the perps.”
He dialed Jones and left her a message—he knew she’d get back to him soon. She’d been heading up the searches and working with the patrols they’d set up for bars and nightclubs.
***
Jennings awoke when his alarm went off. He reached out to turn it off and read the large red numbers that indicated it was 4 AM, and for a moment he forgot why he’d set it so early. Then he remembered. He’d wanted to be at the building and have everything up and running when Roger and Butch arrived with the family. He knew Sonya planned to be at the Housen’s house around five-thirty and it would probably take them a half hour to get the family sedated and loaded.