The Kill Season

by Robin Mahle

  “I’m not going anywhere until we hear from Fisher and Scarborough. They’ve been radio silent for too long,” Duncan said.

  Kate had worried about this very topic, though she was reluctant to voice her concerns due, in no small part, to Quinn’s retaliatory efforts.

  Walsh retrieved his phone. “We need to hear from them before we break up for the night.” But before he dialed, the two senior agents entered the room. “Well, it’s about time you two showed up. You two have any idea of the time?”

  “Sorry, Dad,” Fisher replied.

  Cain scrutinized them. “Looks to me like you boys had a few too many and lost track of the time. I do hope you accomplished something besides catching a buzz.”

  Inspector Varela entered behind them. “These two did well tonight. I introduced them to an important member of the AdA. They did partake in a few drinks that were offered but I wouldn’t say it was a choice on their part. Trust me when I tell you, this will make things go more smoothly for the investigation.”

  Kate swallowed down the rising tide of emotions. Almost a year of sobriety flushed down the drain. Her heart sank and it didn’t matter if he did it for the right reasons. Making matters worse was that she felt Quinn’s eyes on her, as if he knew as well. She refused to acknowledge him.

  “No reason not to catch some rest now that you’re all back. We’ll reconvene first thing in the morning.” Cain rose from the chair. “Glad you boys made it back in one piece. The paperwork alone would’ve been a nightmare.” He patted them on the back and chuckled as he walked out the door.

  “Thank you, Inspector, for bringing them back safely. Goodnight.” Kate walked toward Nick. “We should go.”

  Quinn’s eyes followed her every step, his ears open for her every word. She was careful not to say a one as she escorted Nick into the hall.

  Silence consumed them as they walked along the lengthy corridor toward their room. Kate unlocked the door allowing Nick inside first where he dropped to the edge of the bed. She approached him and raised his right leg to remove his shoe.

  “I don’t need your help. I’m not that drunk for God’s sake.” His head sank and a heavy sigh escaped him. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I let you down.”

  She joined him on the bed and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. “What happened?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” He averted his eyes.

  “Why didn’t you have a choice, Nick? You always have a choice.”

  “You weren’t there. I was two feet away from a notorious drug trafficker and a member of a deadly gang. He offered us drinks. I didn’t feel it would be safe for me to refuse.”

  “How many?”

  He rubbed his face and finally turned to her. “I don’t know. A lot. Five, six maybe. Fisher had at least that much, too.”

  “Cameron isn’t an alcoholic. You are. Did you see the way Quinn looked at you—at me—when you arrived?”

  “Kate, I didn’t believe I had a choice. Now you can accept that, or you can be pissed off at me. I’m already pissed at myself. You know it won’t happen again. You know that.”

  She pushed off the bed and walked into the bathroom to change. Upon her return, Nick was sprawled on the bed, asleep and fully dressed. This hadn’t even been on her radar, worrying about whether Nick would fall off the wagon. Not even an inkling this could happen and certainly not here. But here she was.

  A blanket lay at the foot of the bed and as she pulled it over him, a twinge of guilt flittered in her stomach. She hadn’t been there. Nor had she known the circumstances. But a thought lingered in her mind she couldn’t help but ponder. Could he be trusted not to let it happen again?

  Mason Wylder stood up from the sofa in only his boxer shorts and padded to the glass doors fronting the balcony of his mansion in Gávea. The moment he opened them, the breeze rolled with salty air until it pressed against his bare skin. Tiny goosebumps arose but only for a moment. That was when a mild sting pierced his right arm, and with some surprise he eyed the scratch that had scabbed over. He recalled how the scratch came to be.

  “May I get you a coffee, sir?”

  Mason turned. “Yes, please. Thank you, Dominic.” He resumed his gaze into the deep waters and inhaled a cleansing breath.

  Dominic soon returned with his coffee. “Here you are, sir.”

  “Thank you. Could you also bring me a bandage?”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Mason walked back inside, leaving open the doors to allow fresh air in the home that only hours earlier had been inundated with the stench of liquor and vomit and sex. He resumed his morning ritual of slouching on the sofa with a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through his social media. He had people to maintain his posts and pictures and things of that nature. Personally, he never liked interacting with the general public in such a way, but he knew it was how things were done, and he needed to stay relevant.

  “Good morning, Mason.” Scott appeared with a bagel and coffee. “Don’t forget you have an interview with a local journalist in an hour.”

  “Shit. You’re right. I should get cleaned up.” Still half-naked and getting in a quick scratch of his balls, he continued toward the rear of the home when he stopped on a dime. A piece of jewelry lay on the tile floor in the hall. He picked it up and studied it closely. “Who does this belong to?”

  Scott appeared only mildly interested. “I don’t know.”

  “Get rid of it. Now.” Mason was quickly reminded of how he acquired the scratch on his arm. This bracelet. “If there’s anything else left behind, I suggest you make it disappear before the reporter arrives.”

  “I will.” Scott urgently recruited the housekeeping staff to scour the home and clean it without delay. He checked the time and noted the reporter was due to arrive within a few minutes and walked up the stairs. He spotted his employer. “Mason, it’s almost time.”

  At the top of the steps, Mason buttoned his white shirt and tucked it into his slim-fitting black trousers. “I’m coming. Get Dominic to bring in some drinks, would you? I want to make this reporter as comfortable as possible.” The doorbell rang. “Right on time.”

  Scott stepped back down the staircase and opened the front door. “Good morning, Mr. Wylder is waiting for you. Please, come in.”

  The young reporter put on a bright white smile and flicked back her thick caramel-colored hair. Her 4-inch heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked inside. “Thank you. I am Rosella Ortiz with the Rio Gazeta.”

  “Your English is really good, Ms. Ortiz. You can call me Scott. I’ll show you to the living room.”

  “With the number of American tourists we see, it is best if one speaks the language. However, outside of the large cities, you would struggle to find any English speakers.”

  “Have a seat. Mr. Wylder will be down in a moment.”

  “I’m right here.” Mason appeared from the kitchen holding a tray of drinks and snacks. “I thought I should offer my guest some refreshments.” He placed it on the coffee table. “Thank you, Scott. I think I can handle it from here.”

  Scott took his leave while Mason poured a glass of iced tea. “I hope you like iced tea. It’s sort of an American thing.” He handed her the glass.

  “Thank you.” She sipped on the drink before returning it to the table and retrieved a voice recorder from her carrier bag. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Excellent. I’m here with Mr. Mason Wylder, the American actor who calls Rio home, at least in high season. Isn’t that right, Mr. Wylder?”

  “Please, call me Mason. Yes, I come here in our summer to enjoy your beautiful winter weather. New York can be unbearable this time of year, with the humidity and heat. I’d much rather spend my time here when I’m not shooting the series.”

  “Speaking of that, when will you start production on the next season?”

  Mason took a sip of his drink. “Well, I…”
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  “Excuse me, Mr. Wylder, but your arm seems to be bleeding,” Rosella said.

  “What’s that?” He peered at his arm where a thin red line soaked through his shirt. “Oh. Excuse me, Ms. Ortiz. Would you mind if I go take care of this?”

  “Not at all.”

  Mason walked into the powder room and removed his shirt to examine the stain. His eyes turned black and his lips curled into a scowl. “Stupid fucking bitch. Look what you did?”

  Dissecting the events of last night wasn’t something Kate had the luxury of doing now in the light of a new day. She needed to steer clear of any other thoughts but the investigation. A sharp mind was necessary to see the clues no one else could, so she walked along the quiet beach as the sun rose to give her that critical perspective.

  Nevertheless, her nerves were threadbare, and sleep last night only came in fits and spurts. As she walked along the shore, digging her toes in the wet sand, she gazed out at the ocean and watched the waves lap against the shore. It was serene and felt almost like home, San Diego, that was. Even if that hadn’t been her home in a long time.

  The short-lived, but reviving walk had to come to an end and Kate headed to the boardwalk and from there, it was only steps back to the hotel. She returned to the room and opened the door to find Nick getting dressed.

  He set his sights on her with noted relief. “Where were you? I was worried.”

  “I didn’t see any missed calls on my cell.” Kate closed the door and reached for her laptop bag. “I took a walk along the beach.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes. Alone. It was fine.”

  Nick faced her squarely and clasped her shoulders. “It won’t happen again, Kate. I swear it. If you’d been there. If you’d seen the man, you would have known I had no alternative. Fisher saw it too. I don’t know what more I can say. I have a job to do and in order to keep all of us safe, this was a necessary evil. Inspector Varela told us what those people, the Amigos dos whatever, what they’re capable of. They won’t hesitate to kill any one of us.”

  “Then why aren’t we looking into them if they’re so obviously killers?” Kate pulled away from his tenuous grip.

  “Varela said they already confronted the syndicate and they denied any involvement. In fact, they denied even knowing about it. And his partner, Investigator Sosa got that anonymous tip saying it was an American.”

  “Then Cain will need to provide us with the call logs from the number that was traced back to the tower ASAP.” She gathered her files. “We should go to the meeting room. Everyone’s probably waiting for us.”

  She started out the door, leaving Nick behind, and walked ahead. Her anger was misplaced and while she recognized that, she still needed time to process what had happened.

  Inside the meeting room, Quinn was the only one who had so far shown up.

  “Good morning.” Kate entered and made her way to one of the chairs at the table. A breakfast spread had already arrived and come to think of it, she was hungry and in need of coffee.

  “Morning. Looks you and I are the only ones up and about.” He sipped on a cup of coffee.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “There’s a room back there. I put on a pot. Feel free to dive into the bagels. The croissants are actually my favorite. How’d you sleep?”

  It was hard to look at him after what he’d done, but there was little choice—for now. “I woke up early and took a walk along the beach.”

  “Beautiful morning for it,” he replied. “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come with.”

  She put on an unnatural smile and retreated to the back. On her return, Quinn typed on his laptop. “Any word about our ME?”

  “The request was denied, unfortunately.”

  “Denied? Why?” Kate sat down.

  “Because we aren’t in Kansas anymore.”

  “We all saw those reports last night. They were a joke. Incomplete, no definitive conclusions. How are we supposed to find what they so clearly missed?”

  “We aren’t. Looks like we’ll have to rely on good old fashioned police work.”

  Kate retrieved her files and placed them on the table. “Does anyone else know about this?”

  “Don’t know if anyone’s checked their emails yet. That’s how I found out. Probably in your inbox too.”

  Kate loaded up her laptop and waited for the email to arrive.

  “Hey, um, you must be pretty upset about last night,” Quinn said.

  She shot him a look. “What’s that?”

  “I mean, about you know, Scarborough and what he and Fisher were doing last night.”

  “It’s my understanding that they were securing our safety with the help of Inspector Varela. Is there something else you’re referring to?”

  “I guess not.” He returned to his laptop but stopped and looked at Kate again. “I don’t blame you.”

  “For what, Quinn?”

  “For hating me right now.”

  She smirked and shook her head. “I don’t hate you. In fact, I don’t have any feelings for you one way or another. So, how about we get back to work.”

  Mason Wylder returned to the living room where the journalist waited. “Please forgive the interruption. Where were we?”

  “You’re sure you’re all right?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine, Rosella.” He sat back down. “Let’s continue.”

  “Of course.” She pressed record again. “I guess I should ask, how did you get that nasty cut on your arm?”

  “This? Oh, it happened last night. I was walking along the back of the house in search of a cell phone a guest said he dropped from the balcony. I think it was the grasses back there.”

  “Ah yes, I see. So, I understand this upcoming season could possibly be your last. What can you tell me about that?”

  “Well, you know, it’s been an incredible six year run, but as the saying goes, ‘all good things must come to an end.’”

  “Will you stay in New York when you’re finished taping?”

  “I don’t know. I might take a hiatus. I haven’t quite figured out what the future holds for me.”

  “You have a few more months with us here in our beautiful city. What are your plans?”

  “Well, as usual, I’ll be soaking up the sun and enjoying the time off. I have toyed with the idea of penning my memoir, if I find the time.” Mason chuckled.

  “I can’t thank you enough for taking a moment or two away from your sunbathing,” Rosella replied. “I’ll let you know when this goes to print. Thank you for your time, Mr. Wylder.”

  “I’ll show you out.” Mason led the reporter to the door. “I look forward to reading the piece. Have a lovely day, Ms. Ortiz.” He waited for her to leave and closed the door.

  The smile on his face vanished and he marched to the safe room. After keying in the passcode, he pushed open the heavy steel door. “How dare you? Do you have any idea what you almost cost me?”

  A young woman whose face was stained with tears was bound and gagged and shackled to the floor. She shook her head as her eyes locked onto his.

  He approached her and with the back of his hand, struck her face. “Answer me!”

  She cried harder while he shoved his right arm in her face, pointing at the scratch.

  “You’ll pay for this. I’ll make you scream for your life.” He walked out and slammed the door behind him. A deep breath in through his nose and he stood firmly in the middle of the hallway. “Scott? Scott, where the hell are you?” When there was no answer, he texted him on the phone. “Safe room. NOW.”

  Scott jogged along the corridor. “Sorry, man, I didn’t know you were finished. Where’s the reporter?”

  “Gone. Make sure the house is empty tonight. I have business to take care of.” Mason started to walk away and raising his voice slightly, he continued. “Make sure you get Pete lined up too. You both are going to have your work cut out for you tonight.”

  10

  In the mid
dle of an international investigation that had the potential to rock the delicate diplomatic relations between the two countries, Kate tried to suppress the distractions that gnawed at her. Noah Quinn and his attempt to blackmail her. Nick falling off the wagon and not knowing if he would do it again. Her mind reeled. She would be of no use to anyone if her focus didn’t return. For now, however, the door to the conference room opened. The rest of the team was here to wrestle her thoughts back to where they belonged.

  “We were about to send in the cops.” Quinn smiled as though they were in the midst of an ordinary day.

  “Jet lag.” Fisher headed straight for the back room. “Anyone else want a coffee?”

  Duncan peered around at the nodding heads. “Looks like everyone’s a taker. Let me come help you.”

  Walsh must’ve picked up on Kate’s anxiety as he sat next to her. “How long have you two been here?”

  “Not long. Quinn was here before me. I went for a walk on the beach to clear my head.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve seen the email.” Quinn opened the file on his laptop and turned it outward. “Our request for the M.E. was denied.”

  “What?” Scarborough marched toward him and eyed the screen. “What the hell is this?”

  Fisher returned holding two mugs with Duncan holding two more. “If I had a guess, I’d say the Rio Coroner’s office put the kibosh on our request. That shouldn’t come as a surprise. The doctor wasn’t on board with the idea in the first place, but we had to give it a shot. It is their country and their investigation.”

  “Good morning.” Inspector Varela entered the meeting room. “I can see by the look on your faces you already know about the denied request.”

  “Do we have any recourse?” Kate asked.

  “I wish I could say yes, but you do not. I’m sorry.” Varela appeared to think on the matter. “There could be a way around this, but it won’t be easy, nor will it be safe.”

  “What else is new?” Walsh replied. “If it gets us what we need, I have no problems doing what needs to be done.”