The fatal funnel.
All law enforcement officers are trained to beware of choke points, places where an armed assailant can hide unseen and lie in wait. This dark alley provided an ideal opportunity for ambush.
She prepared to move forward when a heavy hand came down on her shoulder. This time, Kent’s grip was not gentle as he whispered in her ear, “We go in together, Guerrera. As a team. Understood?”
She had the distinct impression he would have held her in place if she didn’t agree. She gave him a quick nod and surged forward. She heard his deep, steady breaths as he ran close beside her.
As they made their way along, her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and she saw a figure getting into a car parked across the street from the other side of the alley. When he started the engine, Nina began to sprint toward him. He threw the sedan in gear and looked in her direction. For a split second, their eyes met, then he accelerated, leaving a plume of acrid smoke behind the car’s squealing tires.
“Did you get a look at the driver?” Kent asked.
“Yes.” She looked up at him. “Clay Forge.”
Chapter 48
Flashing red and blue lights cut through the gathering darkness as police converged on the area.
Nina pulled her cell phone out of a side pocket on her spandex running shorts. “We need to give the police a vehicle description, suspect information, and last-known direction of travel,” she said to Kent.
“I’ll call 9-1-1.” Kent was already tapping the numbers on his phone. “You notify Buxton.”
As Kent gave a rapid-fire account to the dispatcher, Nina pushed the speed dial button programmed for her supervisor.
“SSA Buxton.”
“Sir, you’re probably hearing the sirens.” She forced herself to slow down. “Kent joined me on my run. Someone shot at us with a high-powered rifle.”
Concern hastened Buxton’s response. “Are you both okay?”
She assured him they were both uninjured and filled him in.
Buxton waited until she had finished before speaking. “I’m heading down to the parking lot with the team. Meet us where we were before.” He disconnected.
Kent ended his call with the dispatcher at the same time. “PPD is setting up a command post in the hotel’s west parking lot. We’re supposed to report there and give a statement. Patrol officers are setting up a perimeter around this sector of the city.”
Turning to walk back through the alley, she spotted something lying on the ground in a crumpled heap. “What’s that?”
Kent followed her gaze. “Looks like a drone.”
She squatted to get a closer look. “This thing was buzzing around right before you caught up with me. It must have crashed.”
The device’s white plastic body had shattered, its metallic guts hanging out. Red-and-black-striped wires lay on the asphalt like brightly colored coral snakes. Thoughts of venomous serpents reminded Nina of what Robert Cahill, the staffer at Forge’s juvenile detention center, had said.
“I looked into his eyes, and they were cold and flat. Snake eyes.”
She looked at Kent. “This drone belongs to Forge. He used it to spot me.”
“We need to take it for analysis.” Kent bent to pick it up. “We can get a lot of forensic information off—”
“No!” Nina grabbed his arm. “Don’t touch it.”
“You’re right.” Kent pulled out his phone again. “We’d better get EOD out here just in case.”
She doubted an Explosives Ordnance Disposal unit would find a bomb, but it paid to be careful where Forge was concerned.
Within minutes, a pair of uniformed patrol officers approached them. They cordoned off the area and took up posts at either end of the alley to keep curious onlookers away until EOD arrived.
After thanking them, Nina turned and began to walk back to the hotel parking lot. “He knows I saw him,” she said to Kent. “He’ll probably ditch the car and the weapon and blend in with pedestrians once he’s out of the immediate area.”
Kent fell into step beside her. “Still, this is our best chance to catch him before he gets away. What did Buxton say?”
“We’ll be meeting our team close to where the PD is setting up their command post.”
When they made their way to the hotel parking lot, they found the FBI team, along with Perez, in a huddle near the same corner where they had encountered the reporter earlier.
Breck waved them over. “Are you guys okay?”
“We’re fine,” Nina said. “Turns out it’s tough to hit a moving target.”
Nina remembered how Kent had unexpectedly grabbed her arm, halting her a split second before the first shot rang out. If he hadn’t done that, she would have been squarely in Forge’s crosshairs when he pulled the trigger.
“They want us at the command post,” Kent said to Buxton. “We’re supposed to give a statement to the police.”
“Give me your statement now,” Perez said before Buxton could respond. “Then I’ll go to the command post and fill them in so you can stay here with your team. They’re reviewing video from city cameras set up around this area and using traffic cams to try and track down his vehicle, so they’re pretty busy right now working on apprehension.”
Nina appreciated not having to leave her team while they processed the new developments as a group. Bouncing ideas off each other could lead to better insights about what Forge might do next. Ideas that might provide police with additional search parameters.
After listening to their account of the incident in detail, Wade directed a question at Kent. “Did Forge target both of you?”
“He completely ignored me,” Kent said, adamant. “Every single shot he took was aimed at Guerrera.”
Nina wasn’t so sure but realized Kent had been in a better position to see where each round had hit relative to their positions. His prior combat training and experience would have also afforded him more expertise with detecting the trajectory of incoming fire.
Wade nodded as if he had expected Kent’s answer. “You said Forge appeared to have taken a position of ambush near the hotel?”
“He was lying in wait,” Kent said. “He must have set up between those two buildings after he saw Guerrera start jogging and used the drone to zero in on her. A sniper would station himself in a place where he knew his target would be unprotected and on a predictable route. He knew she would come back to the hotel. What he didn’t factor in was that I would join her.”
“Then Guerrera was the intended target.” Buxton made it a statement rather than a question.
“But how would he know I was going for a run?” Nina tapped her chest for emphasis. “I didn’t know until five minutes before I went out.”
“Maybe he’s been watching the hotel,” Breck said. “Look at how Snead waylaid us in the parking lot. It’s apparently common knowledge this place is where out-of-town law enforcement stays.”
For Nina, it didn’t add up. “I have trouble believing he’s been parked down the street, living in his car, running a fleet of drones outside the hotel day and night, watching for this type of opportunity. It doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re right about that,” Breck said. “Drones have a limited flight time. He’d have to keep sending them up on a constant rotation. Eventually, someone would report him.” She glanced at Nina. “He knew you went out by yourself, but I can’t figure how.”
Buxton lowered his voice. “Maybe he’s paying someone at the hotel to report on our comings and goings.”
“Whatever he did,” Kent said, “he didn’t just get lucky. He staked out Guerrera somehow, and he damn near killed her.” He rested his hands on his hips. “We’ll figure out how eventually, but I’m more concerned about why.”
“There’s only one reason that makes sense, given his personality and the nature of his crimes,” Wade said. “Guerrera represents unfinished business, a loose thread that has to be cut.”
Nina heard someone shout her name.
&nbs
p; “Agent Guerrera!” Snead beckoned to her from across the parking lot behind the perimeter tape. “Could you comment on the shooting? Was this related to the Llorona case? Was the gunman targeting you?”
“Is this guy for real?” Kent said. “How did he know you had anything to do with a random shooting downtown?”
“Because he was probably listening to a police scanner,” Nina said. “A lot of reporters do. When we were talking to those two uniforms by the alley, I could hear their radios. The police dispatcher broadcasted a lookout for the suspect saying he was wanted for attempted murder of a federal agent and also—”
Snead yelled out another question. “Is Clay Forge the prime suspect in the Llorona case?”
“Identifying him by name,” Nina finished dryly.
“So much for coordinating the release of information to the public,” Buxton muttered, then turned toward the command bus. “We need to ask them to transfer all police communications to a secure channel for this operation going forward.”
“I see their Public Affairs officer on the scene,” Breck said. “PPD will field all media questions about the shooting in general, but they’ll want comment from the FBI since two agents were involved.” She turned to Buxton. “How do you want to handle that, sir?”
“We’ll put out a joint statement with the Phoenix police department once we have accurate information about the nature of this incident,” Buxton said, then turned to Nina. “Agent Guerrera, why don’t you head back to your room to shower and grab a change of clothes? Get a couple of uniformed PPD officers to escort you. I need a word with Agent Kent. He’ll be right behind you.”
No one commented on their supervisor’s order. Buxton was a stickler for a neat appearance, but she knew the real reason behind his sudden desire to have her gone from the scene, and it wasn’t so she could clean up.
She had become a distraction to the investigation.
Chapter 49
Nina stepped out of the shower to find her cell phone buzzing on the granite counter. Was Buxton calling to tell her the police had caught Forge? Still dripping, she snatched the device without checking the caller ID.
“Guerrera here.”
Bianca’s voice sounded shrill. “What the fuck, Nina?”
She couldn’t help but smile. The more obnoxious her teenaged neighbor acted, the more worried she was.
“It’s late on the East Coast, way past your bedtime, Bee.”
“Bedtime?” Bianca’s volume raised with indignation. “Some psycho uses you for target practice and you’re asking me whether I’ve brushed my teeth and put on my jammies?” There was a brief pause. “Seriously, what the hell is going on in Phoenix?”
“How do you know about what happened all the way across the country in less than an hour?”
“Two words,” Bianca said. “Google. Alerts.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised. It was the same tactic Breck used to keep apprised of stories about their investigation in the news and social media. Unlike Bianca, however, Breck was a special agent assigned to work the case.
She tried to lighten the mood. “You ever think of working for the CIA?”
“Yeah, right,” Bianca said. “I’d never pass their background check.”
“I’m not even going to ask why.”
“Getting back to the point—which is you, not me—what’s going on?” Bianca said. “Mrs. G’s going to crack open her emergency bottle of tequila when she hears about this.”
“She doesn’t have to hear about it,” Nina said. “If you don’t tell her.”
“You’re already all over social media. Somebody uploaded video of you and that hot G.I. Joe–looking dude dodging bullets.”
“What?” Nina never ceased to be amazed at the instantaneous spread of critical information via the internet. People would never think of providing vital footage to law enforcement when it could score social media hits for them. “I need that video, Bee. The police may not have seen it yet. They’re busy trying to track down the shooter.”
“I’ll send you a link and you can check it out.”
“Okay, text it to me”—she remembered who she was talking to—“and any other uploaded livestreams, if you can find more.”
“Now you’re just insulting me.”
“Thanks, Bee.”
A light knock sounded at the door dividing the adjoining suites. She threw the hotel robe around herself, made her way across the room, and opened it to find Kent, freshly showered and already dressed.
He pointedly kept his eyes on her face. “How are you holding up?”
Rifle rounds zinging past her ears had rattled her, but she wasn’t a delicate flower. “I’m fine, Kent. Was just getting ready to put on some clothes and head downstairs.”
“I’ll wait for you over here on the sofa.” He stepped past her without invitation. “You can get dressed in the bathroom, and we’ll go down together.”
Had Buxton ordered Kent to stick to her, or had he taken that task upon himself?
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she said. “Or a bodyguard.”
He raised his hand to show her a black plastic device that looked like a cell phone on steroids. “Got this from Perez so I could monitor the police radio traffic. I’ll turn it up so you can hear it in the bathroom.” He sauntered over to the cluster of furniture in the corner and planted himself on the couch.
She considered insisting that he leave her room, but he turned on the radio, and she heard a cacophony of voices in staccato bursts as the PPD blanketed the downtown area, searching for Forge. Kent had deftly hooked her in.
Ignoring him, she padded to the closet, where she contemplated the collection of conservative business suits she’d brought back with her. Would it be gray, black, or navy? So many choices. She lifted the hanger with the gray pantsuit and paired it with a silky red top, then fished a set of underwear out of the drawer on the way back to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar to hear the police radio as she got dressed. It didn’t sound like the police were having any luck locating Forge.
Thoughts of Forge brought the shooting to mind. How had he known she would be out alone and vulnerable to attack? As Breck had pointed out, he couldn’t have had drones flying around, hoping for an opportunity that would likely never come. And as Kent had observed, he could not have set up with his rifle in time to intercept her on the way out, but he could catch her on the way in.
Forge seemed to know far too much, and he was clearly feeding Snead. But how did he know to look into her past to connect her to the Llorona case? First, he had successfully sidelined her from the investigation, then he had tried to kill her when she was by herself.
She finished putting on her clothes and pushed the bathroom door all the way open. Kent was still on the sofa, holding the radio, monitoring the barrage of transmissions. A frisson of awareness traveled through her as she watched Kent listening in on what the police were saying. Something about the whole situation bugged her. She froze as the last two words ricocheted through her mind.
Bugged her.
Forge was an electronics expert. He installed security systems that incorporated audio, visual, and other means of surveillance. Everyone in the city knew where they were staying. How hard would it be to gain access to her hotel room?
Kent noticed she had come out and got to his feet. “You ready to go?” He switched off the portable police radio and silence filled the room.
She stood, transfixed. If Forge was eavesdropping on the team somehow, perhaps they could trace the signal or lure him into a trap. She couldn’t do anything to alert him and cut off their best chance of pinpointing his location.
Where would Forge plant a device? She scanned the room. Shortly after becoming an agent, she had posed as a cleaning lady to hide bugs in the office of a CEO under investigation for funneling money to terrorist organizations through his business. As instructed by the techs, she had used a smoke alarm, a corner lamp, and a desk clock to create a steady power sourc
e so the devices wouldn’t need batteries that might die at an inopportune moment.
“Guerrera?” Kent took a tentative step toward her.
What if Forge had installed a pinhole camera and could also watch them? How could she signal to Kent that she wanted to look for a device without making it obvious?
She couldn’t. And everything depended on the next couple of minutes.
She faced Kent and hitched her lips into a smile. “I need to . . . uh . . .” She glanced at the desk, noting the lamp. “I need to leave a note for the cleaning crew. We’re out of toilet paper.”
She strolled over to the desk and sat down. Lifting the pen and pulling the small notepad with the hotel crest in front of her, she leaned forward and pretended to try to turn on the lamp.
“Something’s wrong.” She peered under the wide brim of the shade. “The light won’t turn on.”
“Let me see,” Kent said, moving behind her.
She wanted to throttle him with his tie. “It’s just a loose bulb, I’ve got it.” She stuck her head up higher and twisted the base of the light bulb with her fingers, deliberately loosening it. She figured she had about ten seconds before Forge would become suspicious—if he was listening or watching.
When she tilted the lamp, something caught her eye. A tiny red-and-black-striped wire was sticking out of the metal housing next to the lamp pull.
A cold chill crept down her spine. The wire looked like a coral snake.
Mind racing, she tightened the light bulb, straightened the lamp, and switched it on. “Problem solved.”
The distinctive coloring of the exposed wires was as good as a signature. But how would Forge have gained access to the room when they weren’t around? She had posed as a cleaning lady to plant a device. What if . . .
It hit her with the force of a physical blow. Hotel staff. She recalled the bellman who had quickly bent to tie his shoe when she’d gotten out of the elevator a few days ago, averting his face. FBI agents occasionally used the same tactic. People in uniform were anonymous—they blended in like wallpaper.
“Did you finish your note?” Kent asked her. “We should get going.”
A Different Dawn (Nina Guerrera) Page 25
