Code of Valor

by Lynette Eason

  “I have a hard time picturing you cowering.”

  She wanted to laugh but couldn’t quite manage it. She had cowered—and that shamed her. Never again. “Thanks, but . . .”

  “So, he didn’t see you, but you saw him.”

  “I did. It didn’t take long for the shock to wear off and the rage to start boiling. I was going to speak to him. Be very controlled and professional just to prove to myself that I could, that he had no power over me anymore. So I walked over to Calvin’s office. The door was cracked and I could hear them talking.”

  “About?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. As soon as I heard his voice, I ran to the bathroom and threw up.”

  “Emily,” he whispered.

  She held up a hand. If he got all nice and compassionate, she’d never finish. The fact that she hadn’t been able to face Jeremy without getting sick frustrated her. Shamed her. “Once I was sure he was gone, I looked him up to see if he was in the bank’s system. And he was. Five weeks prior, he’d opened four new accounts, each with an initial deposit of around nine thousand dollars—all under different business names.”

  “Not so weird in and of itself.”

  “No, but . . . something just didn’t set right with me, so I kept digging. He had all the paperwork, ID, addresses, et cetera that he needed. The business addresses are all post office boxes or apartment complexes. The Articles of Incorporation were from Florida and New York.”

  “I see where this is going. Those are two high-volume human trafficking states.”

  “Yes. And he kept the deposits under the required cash reporting threshold.”

  “Funnel accounts?” Brady asked.

  “That’s what I was thinking. And then two days later, large sums went out to different accounts, withdrawn from towns not too far from Sicily. One in Columbia, one in Lexington, one in Irmo, and one in Richland County.”

  “Now I’m really not liking where this is going.”

  “Exactly. Over the course of the next week, cash deposits between nine thousand and ninety-five hundred went in each day. I couldn’t leave it alone. I continued to research the deposits and withdrawals. Most deposits were made between 10:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m. at various branches around the city, and then within two days, the funds were withdrawn and moved.”

  “Whose names are on these accounts?”

  “Corporations and businesses with Jeremy as the contact person, but I don’t think he was the head of the organization. I think he was simply the dispatcher—and the one who’s being set up as the fall guy. I think he’s the one who takes the calls and sets up all of the appointments.” She grimaced at the word. “And I think he has someone who is doing the actual money laundering for him. Purchasing property, cars, and other things.”

  “What were the businesses?”

  “Two cleaning companies, one restaurant, and two travel agencies. I’ve been trying to track down where the money winds up—to see who the head honcho is, but it’s almost impossible. When I call the companies, I do get a receptionist. She said she was part of a call center for the companies and would pass along any messages. I asked her to have someone call me but never heard from anyone. And there was a lot more that made me sit up and take notice, such as all of the transactions on the accounts were never for anything related to cleaning or restaurants. The travel agency did have some travel expenses, but because it was opened by Jeremy on the same day as the others, it was still on my radar. Anyway, I was trying to tread carefully, but”—she shuddered—“obviously I left some footprints somewhere. Like with the receptionist.”

  Brady pursed his lips. “All of that raises some serious red flags for me. Especially the deposits made late at night and early in the morning. That’s classic human trafficking funds movement.”

  “I thought so too. I was trying to get more information before taking everything to law enforcement, only I didn’t have a chance.”

  “Someone didn’t like you looking into the transactions.”

  “Yes. But I can’t figure how they found out—unless it was the message I left with the receptionist.”

  “Did you tell anyone what you were doing?”

  “Just a close friend, but she wouldn’t say a word because she’s helping me look into everything.”

  His eyes narrowed. His skeptical expression tightened her nerves.

  “She wouldn’t.”

  “Who’s this friend?”

  “The friend I told you about back at the cabin. Heather Gilstrap.”

  Again his eyes cut toward her. “What does this friend do for a living?”

  “Why?”

  “Humor me.”

  “She’s . . . a writer.”

  He snorted. “For which paper?”

  Emily jerked. “You’ve really got to stop doing that.”

  “I wouldn’t have to if you’d be straight with me.”

  “She’s an investigative reporter and works for the Columbiana. She’s the friend I tried to call back at the cabin before it blew up. I need to try her again.”

  “A reporter? You trusted a reporter?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Of course. We’ve been working on this for weeks.”

  “And you think she’s going to keep her mouth shut?”

  “She will if she wants the exclusive. We have a deal. She waits on me to complete the investigation before she writes a word.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “No maybe about it. We’ve been friends since fourth grade. I trust her.”

  “I hope that doesn’t come back to haunt you.”

  “It won’t.”

  He grunted. But she didn’t care. She knew her friend.

  “Sounds like we need to talk to Jeremy Hightower.”

  “I know, but not yet. I just need a little more time to gather more evidence about the transactions, then I can turn everything over to whoever will be in charge and they can run with it.”

  “I don’t think you need anything else. It sounds to me like you have enough for a grand jury subpoena or even a search warrant for those records. You probably shouldn’t wait much longer.”

  “But I don’t know where the money finally lands. I don’t know who the ringleader is.”

  “The feds can figure that out. I’m going to let my boss put some surveillance on Hightower and see what they can find out. Is that okay?”

  “If he knows you’re on to him, he’ll disappear. And trust me, he has the money to do it. I mean, he’s not a millionaire or anything—he’s not that high up in the organization—but he’s well paid.”

  He gave her a half smile. “Hightower won’t even know they’re there.” She waited while he set up the surveillance. When he hung up, he asked, “What about your boss? Did he know anything?”

  “No, I never said anything to him.”

  “Why not?”

  She rubbed her eyes. “Because when I present something to him, every t has to be crossed and every i has to have its dot. I learned that the hard way a couple of times and I wasn’t about to make that mistake again, especially when we were dealing with millions of dollars. I was also talking to other banks to see if they were having some of the same activity as we were. And they were.”

  “Only none of their investigators were kidnapped.”

  “As far as I know, I’m it.”

  She fell silent until he pulled into the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour all-in-one superstore.

  “Wait here, okay? I’ll be two minutes in and out. Derek and Linc are right behind us, watching out for you.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  True to his word, he returned quickly with two phones—and a pocketknife. “I hate these packages. They’re impossible to get into.”

  “I think that’s the point. Shoplifters, you know.”

  He shot her a smile and cut into the plastic. “Right.” He gave one phone to her. “Go ahead and program my number in there.” He recited it and she punched it in. “And Linc�
��s and Derek’s.” He rattled off their numbers.

  “Anyone else?”

  “Probably, but that’ll do for now.”

  Emily dialed Heather’s number. And just like before, it went straight to voice mail. “Heather, ignore the last number I left you and call me on this one as soon as you get this.” She hung up and dialed her voice mail for the phone that had been lost.

  “Emily? This is Heather’s mother.” Emily jerked and sat up straight. Brady shot her a concerned look as she listened to the message. “I need you to call me when you can. I’m afraid something terrible has happened to Heather and I need to know if you’ve heard from her. And if you’re safe. The police came by and said they had a 911 call from Heather’s phone. They think she was attacked in the parking garage outside of her work and are looking into it. But no one’s heard from her and she said you were in danger too!” Mrs. Gilstrap’s voice wobbled. “I really need to hear from you.”

  She turned the speakerphone on so Brady could hear. Three more of the same type of messages.

  Emily dialed Mrs. Gilstrap’s number and got her voice mail. “It’s Emily, Mrs. Gilstrap. I didn’t know about the 911 call. Give me a call back when you can. I’m fine at the moment, but now I’m very worried about Heather too.” She gave her the new number, hung up, and closed her eyes. “Something’s wrong,” she said. “Something’s very, very wrong. What if they got her too? Only she didn’t have someone around to rescue her? The 911 call certainly seems to indicate that, doesn’t it?”

  “We can try to find out. Where does she live?”

  “In the same apartment complex that I do. She’s on the first floor, I’m on the third on the other side of the same building.”

  “Give me the address. We’ll head that way and check out her place first. I’ll call Derek and get him to look into the 911 call.”

  Emily gave him directions and then logged in to check her email while Brady spoke with Derek. When he hung up, she glanced at him and frowned. “I have a full inbox, but nothing from Heather. That’s completely out of character for her on so many levels.” She signed out and set the phone in the cup holder. “This isn’t good. Those messages from her mother combined with me not hearing from her? She’s in trouble. Big trouble.”

  “Let’s not worry too much until we know something for sure, okay?”

  She cut him a glance. “Didn’t you hear her mom’s message? Heather made a 911 call. The police went by their house looking for her. They went by her place and she wasn’t there. None of this is adding up to anything good.”

  “I know, but I was trying to be encouraging.”

  Chills danced over her skin and she rubbed her arms. “I appreciate it.”

  “But it’s not working?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Okay. Then, I’ll admit, you’re right. It’s not sounding good.”

  “Could have kept that to yourself.”

  He huffed a short, humorless laugh and fell silent, the tense set of his jaw saying he found the situation anything but amusing. Emily leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. Please, God, let Heather be all right.

  Friday, October 25

  7

  Brady pulled to a stop at the address Emily had provided before she’d dropped off into a restless sleep. He hated to wake her, but he needed the code to access her complex. A gentle shake popped her eyes open and she sucked in a breath as she looked around. “What? We’re here?”

  “You dozed the last hour.”

  She shoved a hank of dark hair behind her ear and blinked a few more times. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well and then after the last few hours . . .” She shrugged. “I guess I’d had it.”

  “Understandable.”

  She scrubbed her eyes. “Um. You need the code, I’m guessing.”

  “Yes. Or I would have let you sleep a little longer.”

  “No. Let’s go to Heather’s place first.” She rattled off the numbers. “Did Derek get back to you on the 911 call?”

  “Not yet. It may take him a bit.” He punched in the code and the gate swung open. “Can you text the code to Linc? They’re about five minutes behind us.”

  “Sure.” She sent the text. “Turn right here,” she said. He drove slowly, scanning the area, taking note of anything that might spell trouble. Nothing alarmed him. The parking lot was quiet at this time of the morning. Just before dawn, the first orange and gold rays of the sun were starting to sneak into the horizon. “Do you see her car?” he asked.

  “No. And that’s her spot right there.” She pointed.

  A young man exited the apartment nearest them and hurried to a packed silver BMW. Brady thought about telling him he needed to move a few of the boxes so his view wouldn’t be obstructed, but that wasn’t his priority at the moment.

  The man’s gaze met Brady’s, then slid to Emily’s. He gave a double take, but lifted a hand in a wave. Emily returned it and rolled down her window. “Paul. Hey, Paul!”

  Paul paused, then walked over to the vehicle. “Hi, Emily. What’s up?” He nodded to Brady. “I’m Paul Bailey.”

  “Brady St. John.” Brady held out a hand and the two men shook.

  “I’m looking for Heather,” Emily said. “Have you seen her?”

  “No.” He frowned. “Did you try her cell?”

  “Of course. She’s not answering.”

  “That’s weird. She didn’t say anything to me about being gone. Is she all right?”

  “I don’t know. When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Wednesday morning, I think. She was in a hurry to get to the office. Why all the worry?”

  “She called 911 late Wednesday night and no one’s seen her since.”

  “What!”

  “I know.”

  “That’s not good. What’s being done to find her?”

  “Everything possible,” Emily said. “Will you ask around and tell me if you hear from her—or anyone who might have seen her before she left work that night?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him her number and the man climbed into his car, backed out, and headed toward the exit.

  “That was Paul,” Emily murmured.

  “I gathered.” A spark of jealousy flamed for a nanosecond, making Brady catch his breath. What in the world? Just because you saved her life doesn’t mean you get to stake a claim. He’d saved lives before and had never once had a flash of jealousy when he’d reunited them with friends and loved ones. His reaction made no sense. “Who’s Paul?” He couldn’t help it. He had to ask. A few seconds’ worth of conversation hadn’t told him much.

  “A friend. Sort of. He’s a realtor and occasionally comes into the bank where I work when he’s in town. He mostly works in Columbia and deals in commercial real estate, but he and Calvin are friends and have lunch once or twice a month. He’s loaded. He’s been living here for about two weeks.”

  “I see. You said he was loaded. Not to diss your apartment complex, it’s actually very nice, but someone who’s loaded doesn’t live in a place like this. At least I find it odd.”

  She frowned. “But his cousin, Claire, isn’t loaded. He’s having his home renovated and moved in with her. He said she insisted he stay with her and get to know each other again. Apparently, they’d grown apart over the years and had recently reconnected. When Paul needed a place to stay, Claire convinced him it would do his character good to ‘live like a normal person.’” She wiggled air quotes around the last few words. “I’ve only talked with her a handful of times. I think I’ve seen more of Paul in the past two weeks than I have of Claire in the past two years.”

  “Seems like he would offer to help her out with a fancier place.”

  “He did. She said no. He said she refuses to let him help her out, that she wants to make it on her own.”

  “Admirable.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You sure do know a lot about him for having only known him for two weeks.”<
br />
  “I got all that from Heather. He’s been trying to get her to go out with him from the moment he met her, but she keeps turning him down. I think she really likes him, and if she wasn’t working so hard on this story, she’d go.”

  “Oh. Heather, huh?” He refused to acknowledge the fact that he was relieved. But he also couldn’t help wondering why he was so drawn to this woman he’d rescued. She was very similar to Krystal in a lot of ways, but there was also something very different about her. He thought it might have something to do with the way her eyes expressed every thought she had and yet managed to remain mysterious at the same time.

  She raised a brow. “Yes, Heather.”

  “And she keeps turning him down?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Just curious.” He made a mental note to look into the guy’s background, then nodded at the apartment next door to Paul and Claire’s. “Is that hers?”

  “Yes. I know where she keeps her spare key.”

  “All right. Stay here and call me if you see anything suspicious or if anyone starts doing drive-bys—”

  “Actually, why don’t I just come with you?”

  “Emily—”

  She opened the door and climbed out, ignoring his protests. Brady scowled and she met his gaze over the hood of the Chevy. “I need to go with you.”

  He nodded. He’d do the same thing in her shoes. “Fine, but stay back.”

  “You think someone’s in there?”

  “No, but just—”

  “Then you think she’s dead?”

  “Emily . . .” Planting his hands on his hips, he sighed. “I don’t know if she is or not, but it’s better if I take a look by myself.” He paused. “That way, if it’s a crime scene, there’s not two of us trampling around in there, okay? If it’s all clear, I’ll call you in to take a look.”

  She gave a slow nod. “All right. I’ll hang back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But not far.”

  “Of course not.” She was stubborn. Probably why she was still alive. Besides, the 911 call came from the parking garage. If someone took Heather . . . or had killed her . . . he seriously doubted they’d bring her back here. But he’d keep that to himself.