by James Swain
“Is it Mates or Holloway?”
“It looks like Mates. Same haircut, but grayer. Looks like he still works out. He’s crossing the street. His destination appears to be the Fast Stop.”
Mates came into view. His arms were tight, and he had a weight lifter’s thick neck. They watched their suspect step onto the sidewalk and enter the grocery store. Daniels started to get out of the rental, but Lancaster stopped her.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I want to tail him, see what he’s doing.”
“What if he recognizes you? What are you going to say, that you came to Sistrunk on a vacation? Stay put.”
She was chomping at the bit to nail Mates and Holloway, and she reluctantly fell back in her seat. Several minutes passed as they waited. The silence was unbearable.
“You never explained how the Cassandra videos were created,” he said.
“We used the Reality Thief,” she said.
“Is that a person?”
“Yes, he’s a person, and my boyfriend. It’s a long story.”
He thought back to Daniels’s Facebook page and the shadowy figure of the man running beside her posted in her photo album. Had she met the love of her life while conducting her investigation? She deserved a reward considering what she’d been through, and he felt happy for her, even if he hardly knew her.
“You’ll have to share it with me one day,” he said.
“I’ll do that,” she said.
Five minutes later, Mates exited the grocery store carrying a brown paper bag overflowing with groceries. Sticking out of the top of the bag was a loaf of Cuban bread and what appeared to be a head of lettuce. Mates went to the curb, halted, and glanced suspiciously over his shoulder before crossing. Years of criminal behavior had instilled a sixth sense in him, as it did in many criminals. Mates sensed that he was being watched, and his eyes scanned the street and the lot but did not touch upon the rental.
Mates shrugged it off and crossed. He opened the gate to his property and walked up the brick path. As he reached the front door, it swung in, and a man with silver hair greeted him. They briefly spoke before Mates went inside and the door was shut.
Daniels watched through her binoculars, which she now lowered.
“That was Holloway,” she said. “He hasn’t changed.”
“They’re both home,” he said. “Is that usual? I would think they’d need to be at work.”
“They may be part-timers. Many senior agents do that before applying for full retirement. It sweetens their package.”
“They’re working cases when they’re not abducting girls and killing them. That’s really sick.”
Daniels pulled out her cell phone and started to make a call.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m calling my boss in DC to ask them to grant me permission to run a surveillance on the house,” she said. “We can’t just barge in there and search the place without probable cause. We need to build a case.”
“But what if they’re preparing to kill Ryean Bartell?” he said. “Waiting isn’t an option.”
“I have to follow the law, Jon. There’s no other choice.”
She made the call. Her boss was tied up in a meeting, so she left a message asking that he call her back immediately. Lancaster’s mind was racing, and as she ended the call he undid his seatbelt, opened his door, and started to get out.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Inside the grocery store. Care to join me?”
She caught up to him halfway across the lot.
“Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?” she asked.
“Did you see the bag of groceries Mates was carrying? There was a loaf of bread sticking out of the top and a head of lettuce. Like he was getting ready to cook a big meal. Isn’t that part of the ritual? To feed their victim a last meal before the lights get turned out? I want to see what else was in that bag.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I’m hoping the owner will show us the receipt of what Mates purchased.”
“Will he do that?”
“He should. Many of the groceries around here run illegal numbers games. If we tell the owner you’re with the FBI, he should play along.”
“I’m the leverage.”
“Yes, you’re the leverage.”
An annoying buzzer rang as they stepped inside the store. There were aisles of canned goods and nonperishable items, while produce was kept in bins in the back. Behind glass counters were the meats and poultry and freshly caught fish. The husky Cuban manager working the register wore a white guayabera shirt with a big fat cigar sticking out of the pocket. He eyed them suspiciously as they approached the counter.
“Good morning,” Lancaster said. “My name’s Jon Lancaster and I’m a private investigator. This nice lady is Special Agent Daniels with the FBI.”
The manager stared at Daniels. Lancaster nudged her with his elbow.
“Show him your badge,” he said.
Daniels took out her wallet and flipped it open. A silver badge rested inside. She held the wallet in front of the manager’s face and let him have a look.
“What’s your name?” Lancaster asked.
“My name is Alejandro. My friends call me Alex,” the manager replied. “Is something wrong?”
“There was a man in here a few minutes ago,” he said. “We need to see the receipt from the items that he purchased.”
“You mean Don?” Alex said.
“Yes, Don. You know him?”
“He’s one of my best customers. What did he do?”
“Nothing. We just need to see a copy of the receipt. Can you print out one for us?”
“Do you have a warrant?”
In Lancaster’s experience, only people who broke the law asked to see warrants. He leaned over the counter and put on his best mean face. “Do you want trouble? We can give you trouble, and shut you down for running an illegal numbers operation. Or you can play along, and print the god damn receipt.”
“I don’t want trouble,” Alex said.
“Prove it.”
Alex quickly typed a command into the keyboard on his register. A receipt was spit out of the printer, and Alex tore it off and placed it on the counter. Lancaster and Daniels read it at the same time. Mates had purchased a loaf of bread, a head of lettuce, three New York strip steaks, mushrooms, Hungry Jack instant mashed potatoes, a quart of chocolate Breyers ice cream, a box of brownies, and a product called U by Kotex.
Lancaster pointed at the last item. “What’s this?”
Alex acted embarrassed. Instead of explaining, he came out from behind the counter and walked down an aisle. They both followed him. He stopped at a section that sold feminine hygiene products and pulled a box off the shelf and showed it to them.
“Here you go,” the manager said.
It was a box of tampons.
CHAPTER 40
NEW YORK STRIP
Alex was a problem. He’d admitted that Mates was an excellent customer. They may have even been friends. There was a good chance he would call Mates and alert him that an FBI agent and private investigator were asking questions about him the moment Daniels and Lancaster walked out of the grocery store.
It was a risk Daniels and Lancaster weren’t willing to take. Mates and Holloway were keeping a girl against her will inside the house across the street, and it was their responsibility to make sure no harm came to her. They moved away from the counter and stood in the chips aisle, talking in hushed tones.
“This guy could ruin our investigation,” Daniels said, referring to the manager.
“I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “We need to get someone in here, and watch him while we figure out how to deal with Mates and Holloway.”
“I can do that.” She took out her cell phone and started to make a call.
“Who are you calling?” he asked.
“Special Agent Moore. He’s d
ependable.”
“He works out of the FBI’s North Miami office, doesn’t he?”
“What are you thinking? That Moore might know Mates and Holloway, and tip them off? Come on, Jon. Don’t be so paranoid.”
“Mates and Holloway have been living in South Florida for eight years. They’ve probably made plenty of friends and established allegiances with the other agents working here. They’re con men. It’s one of the reasons they’ve lasted so long.”
She stopped dialing and lowered the cell phone. “Do you have a plan B?”
“I want to call Carlo, and ask him to come over.”
“All right, call him. You don’t need my permission.”
“Yes, I do. It’s your investigation, Beth.”
“Fuck it, call him.”
He made the call. Carlo answered on the first ring.
“How are things at Camp Pearl?” he asked.
“Pretty quiet,” Carlo said. “Karl’s been standing in the driveway, giving menacing looks to passing cars, while Mike’s on the dock, watching boats in the Intracoastal. I think they’ve scared off the sickos stalking Nicki.”
“Nice going. Do you feel comfortable leaving and helping me out for a few hours? I need you to watch a grocery store manager for a little while.”
“A grocery store manager? What did he do? Sell someone spoiled milk?”
“He didn’t do anything. I’m just afraid he might make a phone call, and ruin a stakeout I’m on. Are you in?”
“I’ll have Karl take over for me. Give me the address.”
He gave him the address of the Fast Stop Food Store. Carlo voiced displeasure that the store was in Sistrunk, and chastised Lancaster for not telling him before hanging up. The front door buzzer went off, and a customer came in and went straight to the section of the store where grilling supplies were displayed. Daniels’s mouth dropped open. Lancaster looked at her, then at the customer.
“Holloway?” he asked under his breath.
“The one and only,” she whispered.
“Go hide.”
Daniels went to the rear of the store where the produce was kept and started squeezing the tomatoes. Lancaster bellied up to the counter and grabbed a pair of cheap shades off a display and put them on. Then he pulled a copy of People en Español out of a rack and thumbed through it. Alex was caught in the crosshairs and gave him a nervous look.
“Keep your damn mouth shut,” he whispered.
“Yes, sir,” the manager whispered back.
Holloway was making his way to the front of the store. He stood a half foot taller than his partner and also had a gym physique. He was a seasoned FBI agent and would realize the man at the counter wasn’t a normal customer if Lancaster didn’t handle things right.
“Give me a pack of Marlboros,” Lancaster said as he fitted the magazine back into the rack.
The cigarettes were stored in a plastic display behind the register. Alex pulled out a pack and tossed it on the counter. Lancaster took out his wallet and reached for a five-dollar bill. He didn’t smoke and had no idea how much a pack cost. If he put down too little, it might set off an alarm, so he threw down a twenty.
“That will be seven dollars,” Alex said.
Alex rang up the sale and counted out his change. Lancaster stuffed the money into his pocket and headed for the exit, then stopped and came back. Holloway had put a bag of charcoal on the counter and had his wallet out.
“Forgot my matches,” he said. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
Holloway settled up and left the store. Daniels returned to the counter.
“Did you think he suspected anything?” she asked.
“No, he was in the dark.” He returned the shades to the display. To the manager he said, “Good job.”
Alex was not happy with the situation, and frowned. Ten minutes later, Carlo walked into the grocery and joined them at the counter.
“I got here as fast as I could,” Carlo said.
“Much appreciated.” He addressed Alex. “I want you to listen to me. This man was a SEAL and can kill you with his bare hands. If you do anything stupid, he’ll tear one of your arms off, and beat you to death with it. Got it?”
“You don’t have to threaten me,” the manager said.
“Just trying to make myself clear. Are we good?”
Alex nodded. Then he said, “This is about the girls, isn’t it?”
Daniels nearly leaped over the counter. “What girls? What are you talking about?”
“The girls that stay with Don and Troy in the house across the street,” Alex said. “They bring them into the store late at night. The girls are drugged out and can hardly stand up. I have wondered what happens to them, but I’ve learned not to ask.”
Daniels looked ready to strangle him. “How many times has this happened?”
“Too many,” he said.
“Were the girls young?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you know any of them?”
“No. I’d never seen any of them before. I felt bad for them.”
“Then why didn’t you call the police?”
“Because the police don’t give a shit,” Alex said. “Bad things happen in Sistrunk every day, and the police look the other way. Why would these guys be treated any differently?”
Daniels was enraged. Mates and Holloway had paraded their victims in front of the manager and probably his customers and no one had acted. Fighting evil was hard; fighting it alone was nearly impossible. Lancaster pulled her away from the counter and told her to calm down. She unclenched her fists and took a deep breath.
“You have no idea how angry this makes me,” she said.
“Yes, I do,” he said. He turned and addressed Carlo. “We’re leaving. Keep your cell phone handy. I may need you.”
“Will do. Be careful,” Carlo said.
They went to the front door. Daniels hadn’t calmed down, and he felt like he needed to do something. He started to speak, and she shut him down. The door was made of glass, and she pointed across the street. A column of black smoke rose in the air behind Mates and Holloway’s house.
“What do you think that is?” Daniels asked.
They ventured outside. The smell of grilling meat filled the air, and Lancaster realized that Mates and Holloway were grilling the three New York strip steaks they’d just purchased as they prepared Ryean Bartell’s last meal. Ryean would be photographed before they ate, and when the meal was over, she would be killed and her corpse photographed on a camera with film that would later need to be developed.
“Looks like we’re just in time,” he said.
CHAPTER 41
DIVIDE AND CONQUER
“We need backup to do this right,” Daniels said. “Do you have a contact at the sheriff’s office that will help us?”
“I’m still friends with my former supervisor,” he said.
“Call him.”
He called his former supervisor to request a SWAT team. The Broward County Sheriff’s Office had a twenty-four-hour SWAT team at its disposal to deal with active shooters and possible terrorist activity. The only issue would be traffic, which could seriously delay their arrival. An automated receptionist answered, and he punched zero to speak to an operator. Canned music filled his ear.
“What’s taking so long?” she asked.
“Must be a busy day,” he said.
A minute passed. He sniffed the air.
“They just put the steaks on,” he said. “Mates bought three New York strips, which take about ten minutes to cook. We’re running out of time. What do you want to do?”
“I’ve never stormed a house before,” she said. “You were the SEAL. Make the call, and I’ll back you up.”
He pocketed his cell phone, marched over to his car, and popped the trunk. The floor panel and spare tire had been removed, making the compartment extra deep. Three long plastic storage boxes were arranged side by side. He popped the lid of the first box, where a bulky bulletpr
oof vest lay inside. He handed it to her.
“Just one?” she asked.
“I usually run solo,” he explained.
“You should wear it.”
“I insist. Don’t argue with me, Beth.”
She fitted on the vest and tightened the belt. He opened the second storage box. Inside was a Beretta Tx4 Storm 12-gauge shotgun, which he also gave to her.
“This is a Beretta. It’s gas operated and absolutely deadly at close range,” he said. “It also won’t take your shoulder off with the recoil.”
“What’s the load?” she asked.
“One-ounce slugs. They’re perfect to take down a door.”
“Gotcha.”
The third box contained four handguns arranged on a piece of carpet. It was always best to match the equipment with the goal. He chose the Luger with the double stack magazine that held seventeen rounds and slammed the trunk shut.
“Ready when you are,” he said.
Daniels took her badge from her wallet and pinned it to the shoulder strap on the vest. They moved to the sidewalk in front of the grocery and looked both ways. Sistrunk was a nocturnal community, and there was not a soul to be seen.
“What’s our plan of attack?” Daniels asked.
“Divide and conquer,” he said. “One of them is in the backyard grilling the steaks, and the other is inside preparing the meal. We’ll deal with them individually. I’ll go around back while you count to sixty. When you reach sixty, go to the front door and blow it open. I’ll deal with the guy in back and enter the house through the back door. That will let us trap whoever’s inside. That sound good to you?”
“I like it,” she said. “When should I start counting?”
“When we reach the other side of the street.”
They crossed. Lancaster said a silent prayer. He didn’t believe in God but always said a prayer in tight situations, just in case. Daniels started counting as her foot touched the sidewalk. The moment she did, he dropped into a crouch and scurried around the side of the house. The property had a waist-high chain-link fence that would be easily jumped. He saw no sign of a guard dog or security cameras. Mates and Holloway obviously felt safe living here, the bad neighborhood a perfect deterrent.
