by G. K. Parks
“Parker, I know it’s personal for all of us, but you should step back and let me handle this.”
“Is that what Martin asked you to say?”
“No, but it’s clear the unsub has a bone to pick with you. You don’t need to piss him off, especially when you’re on the mend.”
“You’re right.” But I didn’t always make the best decisions.
Thirty
Detective Heathcliff was waiting in the lobby when I returned to the apartment. Upon seeing me and my entourage, he stood. Nodding his thanks to the concierge, he fell into step beside me.
“Jones. Marcal.” Derek acknowledged each of them in turn before focusing on me. “Parker,” his eyes narrowed on my cheekbone, “good to have you back in mostly one piece. Does that feel like it looks?”
We stepped into the elevator. “I don’t know. Let me find some brass knuckles, and you can tell me.” It was a bitchy remark, but I was tired and achy. “What are you doing here?” No one had been to the apartment Martin and I shared except Jablonsky. No one even knew about it.
“I phoned Martin. He said you’d be here.” Derek glanced back at the boys. “After the ordeal you went through, I didn’t think you’d be galivanting around town. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I spent the last two days doing nothing but sleeping and eating. Since my strength’s returning, a field trip was in order.” I led the way into the apartment, hoping to get a little privacy. The only way to do that was to send my bodyguards on a few errands. After asking Marcal to pick up some groceries, he left the apartment. Bruiser was easier to ditch. I simply asked him to wait in the lobby, which he interpreted to mean just outside our front door, probably with his ear pressed against it.
I sprawled out on the couch, wincing. Derek took a seat across from me. “God, Alex, I am so sorry this happened to you.”
“Thanks.”
He assessed me carefully. “For what it’s worth, you’ve looked worse.”
“Just what a girl likes to hear.”
“Can I do anything? Get you anything?”
“No.”
He removed the notepad from his pocket and clicked his pen a few times, a habitual act he performed when nervous or deep in thought. We had been at odds over his case, and I could tell he regretted that now. So did I. “Was it the same man from the alley?”
“That’s the working theory. The man who abducted me and the one who attacked me drove the same vehicle. Same plate. Dressed the same. So we’re assuming it’s the same guy. The FBI’s on it.”
“I’m aware. SSA Jablonsky’s spoken to me several times. But you and me, we’re thick as thieves. I’m not letting this go.” He held up his palm before I could speak. “I won’t get in their way. Actually, I’m wondering if this connects to my murder investigation. We discussed it before, but I thought maybe now you might be more forthcoming.”
“CryptSpec?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“You still haven’t solved that? Sheesh. It’s not like you had anything else to do.” I shot him a playful smile. “Seriously, is this visit just an excuse to ask for my help? My consulting rate has skyrocketed since I signed on at Cross Security, but I’d be willing to give you the friends and family discount since we’re thick as thieves.”
He chuckled. “I wish it were that simple.” He blew out a breath. “Would you mind answering some questions, and we’ll take it from there.”
“We’ll see.”
It was basic follow-up. Jablonsky, several other agents, and LEOs had already asked me the same questions. I didn’t have anything new to say, but it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else’s input. Perhaps Heathcliff could offer a new perspective or gain some type of insight that no one else had. After all, he was coming at this mess from a different angle.
His theory was, and still remained, that the unsub was connected to Stuart Gifford and CryptSpec. The type of cryptocurrency Noah was dealing linked my investigation with Heathcliff’s, even though I still wasn’t sure how. The unsub probably wanted to scare me away from Klassi’s case, and when that failed, he escalated to what would have culminated in murder had I not escaped. Derek closed the notepad and tucked it into his breast pocket.
“Gideon Steinman,” he said. “It’s a start. And you’re sure he’s not responsible?”
“He isn’t. Jablonsky even checked with the nursing home. The man didn’t escape.”
“Has anyone questioned him yet?”
“You’d have to ask Jablonsky.”
“That’s probably the first place he looked.” Heathcliff stood. “I’ll look again and cross-reference his name with CryptSpec’s employee database.”
“How is the case coming?”
Derek scratched his head and found something interesting to stare at in the kitchen. “You mind if I have a cup of coffee?”
“Help yourself, but don’t ask me how to make it because that’s Martin’s job.”
He trudged into the kitchen, and I wondered if he planned to flip through the files on the counter when I wasn’t looking. Honestly, I didn’t care if he did. After searching the cabinets for a mug and coffee, he waited in the kitchen for the coffee to brew. “I looked into Don Klassi. You were right. He did have an alibi for the time of Stuart Gifford’s murder. But Martin clued me in on Don’s questionable dealings. He thought they might connect to whoever took you.”
“And?”
“It’s all one big question mark.” He removed the mug from beneath the brewer and returned to the living room. “Does the FBI have any leads? Hell, Parker, do you have any leads or a workable profile for this bastard?”
“Not really, but he’s smooth. He doesn’t leave prints, and if he does, they aren’t in the system. It makes it impossible to determine who he is. But he’s killed before. The search team found four bodies buried in the woods. It would have been six, but he forgot to lock the door. As far as I can tell, that’s the only mistake he’s made. He knows what he’s doing. Jablonsky thinks he might be on the job.”
Derek mulled it over. “Sounds plausible, but in that case, he’d have to know how risky it would be to make a move on you. He would need a really strong motive to even consider attempting it, and aside from sex and money, the only one left is to cover up another crime.”
“Like another murder or a ten million dollar scam?”
“Sounds like you have a theory.”
“I’m borrowing it from you. Honestly, I don’t know what to think. This asshole is obsessively careful. Jablonsky’s considered every possibility, but given what we know, I’m guessing this slimeball is a career criminal who’s never been caught, which is what the evidence indicates. He’s got to be a true psychopath. Intelligent, methodical, and lucky as hell.”
“That’s comforting.” Derek finished his coffee. “Do you think he’s smart enough to cut his losses and go to ground?”
“He’s smart,” I admitted. “And careful.” But dumping the car on the side of the road was a taunt. He could have left it in a parking garage, drove it into the river, or found some less obvious way of disposing of it. “He’s not done yet. He fucked up. He left two witnesses alive. Now we know he exists. He can’t continue to anonymously kill, abduct, or whatever it is he does. We know he’s out there. And we’re not going to stop looking.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You need me, you call. Got it?” He considered giving me a hug but thought better of it. “I’ll have patrols beefed up in the area. He’s not getting near you again.”
“Martin already hired additional security.”
“Can’t say that I blame him.” Derek reached for the door, finding Bruiser on the other side. “And the fact that you’re going along with it says a lot.”
“Shut up.”
Heathcliff gave me one last look and shook hands with Bruiser. “Make sure you keep her safe. And good luck. She can be a handful.”
Bruiser snickered. “Yes, s
ir.”
Instead of feeling empowered by the progress that had been made, I was overwhelmed. Everyone was working on this. Jablonsky mostly. But my pals at the precinct weren’t going to drop the ball either. The only one I wasn’t sure about was Cross. And honestly, I didn’t want him involved. I didn’t trust him. He had my back in the past, but his convoluted motives muddied the issue now.
“Hey, Jones,” I said, and Bruiser closed the fridge door and turned around to face me, “I want to know what happened.”
“Ma’am?” He tried to play dumb.
“I’m not in the mood. Spill.”
He poured two glasses of water and brought them into the living room. He handed me one and sat in the chair Heathcliff vacated. “Martin doesn’t want me discussing this. He’s already going to be upset when he learns you went out, disobeying the doctor’s orders for a week’s worth of bed rest. I don’t want to cause him any more problems.”
“He’s unraveling. I don’t like seeing him suffer. I need to know what happened, so I can do something to fix it.”
Bruiser sipped his water but chose not to comment. “He mentioned you saw the damage at his compound.”
“Yeah.” I wondered where this was going.
“He didn’t know how to fix that situation, so he had to find a release valve.”
“It wasn’t his to fix.”
“And this isn’t yours,” Bruiser said with wisdom not many possessed. “He has to come to terms with the way things went down. He’s used to exercising a certain level of power and influence. He’s never been able to do that with you. I imagine you could say the same about him. It’s why the two of you work as a couple.”
“I didn’t know you had a psychology degree.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “He believed he could negotiate and reason with someone unreasonable. From what I’ve seen, he’s always believed that if push came to shove, he could pull enough strings and exude enough influence to keep you safe. Despite his best efforts, things did not go as planned.”
“It wasn’t his fault. He did everything he could.” This situation mirrored so many that I had faced. Intimately, I knew the feelings of despair and helplessness. I’d felt them when Martin was shot, and no matter how much progress I made, they never completely went away. I doubted they ever would, and I knew this was what he was staring down every time he looked at me. “If he hadn’t gone to the exchange, if he didn’t agree to pay, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now. But the rest was beyond his control.”
“He won’t stop until he figures that out.” A sound at the front door had Bruiser tensed, his gun aimed at the doorway even as he maneuvered around the sofa to put himself between me and whoever was about to enter.
Marcal lugged several grocery bags into the apartment, and Bruiser’s gun vanished just as seamlessly as it materialized. The bodyguard secured the front door and returned to his seat. We didn’t speak of it again.
When Martin came home a few minutes later, cutting his workday short, he frowned at the files on the counter. “Did Detective Heathcliff leave these?”
“No.” I pulled myself off the couch and went to grab the files, but Martin brought them to the coffee table and politely dismissed Marcal and Bruiser before taking a seat beside me. “You’re not supposed to lift anything heavy.”
“They’re just files.”
“Metaphorically speaking, they weigh a ton. You’re going to need someone to help you with the heavy lifting, at least for a little while.” He separated the files into different piles based on color. “Where do we begin?”
“Martin.” But one look silenced my protest. He needed this. “We should start with the progress Mark’s made.” I pointed to a stack. “Hand me those.”
“Okay.”
I spread the pages out between us. “We need to simplify things.” I grabbed the notepad off the side table and explained what I wanted to do.
Martin took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and settled back with pen and paper. We worked for hours sorting through the data and building a profile. We made lists of facts and items found in the bomb shelter and the cabin. We detailed everything there was to know about the car. Martin pulled information off the internet for that particular make and model. I wrote down what I remembered from being locked in the trunk.
He searched for details on the bomb shelter, finding out when it was built and who built it. He pulled the company details and called to see if they were still in business after almost seventy years. Since bomb shelters were no longer a hot commodity, predictably, the company went under decades ago. Still, he continued on that path. He made a list of the owners and the workers, figuring it couldn’t hurt to check into their offspring.
“We need more details on the car. There must be purchase records.”
I held out a page. “Is that what you want?”
He skimmed it. “Yep.” He found the dealership and name of the salesman who sold Gideon Steinman the vehicle. “They’re still in business. Perhaps Steinman brought someone with him when he made the purchase. A relative or friend.” He bit his lip. “What do we know about Steinman?”
“He’s old.”
“Don’t be an ageist.”
I sighed. “He isn’t responsible.”
“But he’s our best bet of finding the asshole who is. I want to talk to him.”
Truthfully, so did I. “Jablonsky called dibs.”
“He can’t do that.”
“He can actually. This is an official investigation. Any interference could be considered obstruction of justice. He could arrest us.”
“Well, he wouldn’t,” Martin said. A pain shot through me, and I nearly doubled over. “Alex? What is it?”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. Maybe you should take a break. I can continue working on this.”
“How about some lunch first? I’m famished.”
“You haven’t eaten? No wonder your stomach hurts. You should have eaten hours ago.” He went to heat some broth. While he was in the kitchen, he skimmed my discharge papers. “Hey, do you want to try some soft foods? You’ve been doing the clear liquid thing long enough. I think we have some applesauce.” He opened the pantry and peered inside. “You weren’t supposed to go out. Did you go shopping?”
“Marcal did.”
He took the steaming mug out of the microwave. “You should have told him to get applesauce.” He reached for his phone. “I’m sure he won’t mind making another trip.”
“I don’t like applesauce.” I took the offered mug and blew on the rising steam.
“I could puree some vegetables. Carrots or something. Soft, overcooked fruits and vegetables should be easy to digest. You like carrots, right? I can boil some carrots. Maybe add them to the broth. Hell, you’re just a few vegetables away from a hearty soup. It should be easy on your stomach. I should make some.”
I grasped his hand. “Make yourself a drink and sit down.”
Martin laughed. “You’ve never said that to me before. Normally, you say the opposite.”
“Special circumstances.”
He didn’t make a move for the liquor cabinet, but he did sit beside me. “It’s not even happy hour yet.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.” I looked at his crumpled suit jacket hanging haphazardly off the back of the sofa. “And Mr. Armani would be crushed to see what you did to his masterpiece.” I put my mug down and undid the buttons on his vest. When I was finished, I tugged on his tie. “This is usually the first thing you take off when you get home. Unless you’re going back to the office, you need to take this off. Now.”
“Next, you’re going to tell me I should strip.”
I grinned. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a striptease.”
“Oh, really?” He tried to play it off with that sexy, cool attitude that came naturally to him, but his words were hollow. He wasn’t in a playful mood. His libido was inextricably linked to my well-being. “I’ll make you a deal
, sweetheart. As soon as this is behind us,” he gestured at the papers and files, “I’ll perform the hottest striptease of your life.”
“With an offer like that, how can I refuse?”
I finished my cup of broth, and we went back to work. Martin picked up the phone, and before I could stop him, he was discussing the octogenarian with Mark. At least it gave Mark an opportunity to follow up with Martin, like he wanted. I sat back and surveyed the progress we made. I’d already begun this research at Cross Security, but maybe starting fresh with new facts would make a difference.
“Alex,” Martin held out the phone, “Jablonsky wants to speak to you. It’s about Noah.”
Thirty-one
“How is he?” Jablonsky asked.
“Remarkably well for someone who’s gone through what he has.” The doctor flipped through the chart. “We do have him on high doses of pain medication, so he isn’t entirely lucid. But you can try to talk to him.”
“Thanks.”
The doctor glanced at me and touched his own cheek. “You might want to get someone to look at that.”
“Someone already did.” I waited for Mark to flash his credentials at the protection detail guarding Noah’s room. “Do you want me to take lead?”
“You’re not an agent, Parker,” Jablonsky reminded me. He scratched the back of his head. “But seeing you might get him to open up. Just limit what you say. If you screw up, it’s on me.”
“In that case, you better be nice to me.” I entered the room. “Hey, Noah.”
Noah turned at the sound of my voice. “Alex? You’re alive?”
“It looks that way.” I moved closer and stood beside the bed, doing my best to block his view of Mark. “The last time I saw you, I thought…I’m glad you survived.”
“Barely. The last thing I remember was you telling that sick fuck to leave me alone. Everything’s fuzzy after that.” He winced. “God, my head hurts.” He tried to massage his temples but found his hand stuck to the rail. He stared at the metal bracelet, confused why it was there.
