Unafraid

by Allie Harrison

  Tex offered his lop-sided grin. “Of course, you’d be staying even if there wasn’t a worry, wouldn’t you?”

  It was more a statement than a question. Gil sent the grin right back. “Yes, I would. You’re just sorry she picked me over you.”

  “Yes sir, I am,” Tex admitted.

  Gil turned serious. “I was thinking about taking some time off, too, while I stay there and watch over them. But before I could request it, Director Pennington informed me that we were all on vacation for a while, anyway, four weeks off with pay to be exact.”

  “I got that call, too. I thought that was pretty generous of them,” Tex said.

  Monty, Al and Louis all chimed in with similar verification.

  “I guess I didn’t get the call because I was already on medical leave.” Dell spoke in his usual, quiet way.

  They all looked at Dell. Of the five, he was shortest and had the longest hair, which he wore in a small pony tail. Whenever they’d needed a female decoy, Dell had fit the bill. For the first time, John noticed there was a hint of gray in Dell’s hair. “I guess that’s why I didn’t get a call, either,” John said, trying to squelch the pissed off feeling that moved through him.

  Not only did Brubaker get put in charge, but now his team was on vacation, which meant out of the loop. Shit. This was not going to be easy. They’d have to keep an eye on Smith under cover from their own people.

  Gil shuffled some of the folders. “I was thinking if things got hot again, I’d take Ellie and Raylan to the beach. And I’d insist Stan Lorentz and his family go with us.”

  “If things get hot again,” John said, “we’re all going to the beach.”

  “I say we kill Smith first.” Dell’s whisper was spoken so no one else in the place would hear it. “Then we go.” John couldn’t help but notice that Dell scratched his belly as he spoke. No doubt that healed knife wound put there itched like the scar on John’s shoulder.

  “Tell me about him,” John said. “But with the usual code. I only got bits and pieces Gil was good enough to share.”

  “You were in the hospital. You didn’t need any of it. All you needed to worry about was healing,” Gil argued.

  “Well, I’m out and feeling almost tip-top so do share.”

  Virgil slid an eight by ten black and white glossy in front of John. John studied the man even though he’d seen his photo before. Gil had shown it to him in the hospital, and then he’d seen Smith on the news. Hell, he made the news more than any celebrity John knew. John couldn’t help but wonder if someone wasn’t glamorizing him to make him some sort of hero.

  When Gil spoke, it was softly. “He was released from the hospital from Ellie shooting him in the gut. I’m only sorry she didn’t kill him. And he’s now staying with our mutual federal friends. They’ve got him safe at an undisclosed location. Which, I might add, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”

  “Do we know this undisclosed location?” John asked.

  Virgil grinned. “Of course we do. They’ve got him hidden in city hall right here, in what used to be the old police station. We already got cameras and bugs there. And guess what? He’s already singing about a body in a quarry in Southern Illinois, even gave the name of a missing person, and they plan to actually take him on a little field trip there today so he can show everyone the exact location. I called Director Pennington as soon as I heard. He said there was nothing he could and that his hands were tied. So, I went over his head and called Director Cohen, who assured me I didn’t need to worry. Cohen assured me Smith was surrounded by friends and he was watched every moment, even when he needed to take a piss. I was assured there was no way he could go on any excursions without chaperones. I argued, John. I told Cohen everything we’d found, everything he’d said and everything he’d done, how cleverly smart he is. All Cohen kept saying was that I didn’t need to worry. Then he questioned me on how I could even have such information. Said it was out of my hands now. He even accused me of working too many long hours. Told me we were done, that our job was over, and we needed to walk away now and let things be handled by the appropriate department.”

  “Did you ask him who the fuck that was?”

  Virgil leaned over the table and talked softer. “I bit my tongue off to keep from asking that. That was when I was told we—the entire team—got four weeks off with pay to recoup and Cohen encouraged me—quote, unquote—to get away for a while and see some new scenery. It was a clear warning to stay away from Smith.”

  John’s shoulder was itching like mad. He sucked in a breath. “Idiot. He’s got an unstable keg of dynamite in custody, and he doesn’t even know it.”

  “I’d say that was an understatement.” It was the first time carrot-top Monty spoke after greeting them upon his arrival.

  John was quiet for a long moment as he looked at each of his men. They were all men who made him proud. They were men he’d give his life to save. He knew they would do the same. “Ellie shot him—Smith. What kind of shape is he in?”

  Tex shrugged. “I looked in on him, wearing a white lab coat decoying as a doctor, of course, since he hadn’t seen me at Ellie’s house. He moaned and bitched the entire time, complained the staff mistreated him, said his belly ached and they withheld his pain medication. Said he planned to sue the hospital as well as the police department. I’d feel better if she’d shot him in the leg or the pelvis and shattered some bone, but it was all soft tissue that’s healing. I did, for the hell of it, play the doctor and pressed on his belly a few times. I’m sorry you couldn’t all hear the little prick moan. But he’s healed enough to be on his feet.”

  “Healed enough to be hiking around a quarry?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Who was guarding him?” John asked.

  “Two suits I didn’t recognize. I didn’t directly look at either in case they were wearing any cameras, and I disguised my voice in case there were any bugs.”

  John expected nothing less.

  “Is his father really Daniel Jamison, former director of the FBI?”

  “It appears so,” Tex replied.

  John felt like there were just so many people nearly destroyed by Bob Smith. It was like he somehow managed to line everyone up and take them all down at once like ducks in a shooting gallery.

  And of course, John was healing from a gunshot wound. He reached up absently and scratched at it. His motion didn’t provide any relief.

  Abigail chose that moment to approach with a large tray covered with cups of drinks and plates and bowls of food. The conversation about Bob Smith stopped and Virgil gathered up some of the photos so Abigail couldn’t see them as they all focused on what she served them. John didn’t think she appeared interested in anything they had spread out on the table except to keep from spilling coffee or soup on it.

  Her soft scent of vanilla touched him.

  It reminded him of the inviting aroma of home, of his kitchen.

  The sudden, wild wonder of what she might look like standing in his kitchen flashed through his thoughts. There was even more wonder as to how his kitchen might look different with her in it. It surprised him to know he wanted to find out.

  He met her gaze and his heart did a bit of a somersault. In fact, he was so caught, he didn’t hear Gil’s next words.

  He had to clear his throat. “What? What did you say?”

  “I said we need to learn who his associates are,” Gil repeated. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right. Maybe you really should take a few more days off.”

  He waited for Abigail to leave. “I’m fine. Just pre-occupied.”

  “Charlie’s in class, isn’t he?”

  Leave it to Gil to take the conversation to a personal level. “Yes.”

  “So your house is pretty quiet?”

  “No more than usual.” John leaned closer and talked softer. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve never dealt with any career criminal quite like this guy.” He pointed to Smith’s picture. “And God knows we’ve all
sure as hell met some crazies since we climbed into this boat together.” He reached out and plucked up a photo taken at Bob’s ‘office.’

  “So it’s really true he had a drawer filled with trinkets and souvenirs from his victims?”

  “We were trying to connect the dots. But hell, we don’t even know who all his victims are,” Virgil said, speaking just as softly before he took a big chug of his coffee. “And it won’t be easy now that we’re on vacation.”

  “There were more than twenty pairs of panties in that drawer,” Tex replied between bites of soup. “I counted them myself. And while I can connect some of the items to unsolved crimes like pieces of jewelry and earrings that are being tested for DNA, there are a few that simply don’t even fit in with Smith’s profile, even though it is the most abstract profile I’ve ever known.”

  “Like what?” John asked.

  “Well, there’s a baby spoon, a screwdriver, and a man’s red silk neck tie, just to name a few.”

  “They’ve all been sent to forensics?” John inquired.

  “Yes, but when I called regarding them, I was told I was no longer privy to any information.”

  John shook his head. “Shit.”

  “Yeah.” Tex’s single word was drawn out with his southern drawl. “Looks like we’ve been severed from the loop.”

  Gil was the only one besides John who wasn’t drinking, but then John had already had a cup of coffee before their arrival. Perhaps Gil had, too. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking the same as the rest of us, that we should have killed the bastard and forgot the bodies he claims to know about.”

  John realized none of them were talking in code any longer, but they were speaking softly enough he wasn’t going to worry about it. “I know families need and deserve closure, but I have the feeling more families will suffer as long as this monster lives, even though he’s in custody.”

  Dell turned his cup of coffee around slowly on the table. “Especially now, if he’s taking road trips searching for dead bodies. Sooner or later, someone somewhere is going to make a mistake and the monster will escape. My father’s a pretty powerful judge, but he couldn’t do anything when I called him and told him about Brubaker.”

  “I’m not even worried about him escaping as much as I’m concerned about him having access to a phone or a computer where he can contact someone to do some horrific job for him,” John put in. “I feel like we are all pretty damned vulnerable. So, Gil, I’m glad you’re with Ellie. Even if you didn’t want to be, I’d assign someone. But keep your eyes open. We can’t trust anyone. Virgil, call Officer Lorentz and let him know about the field trips, too, because I’d bet my vacation pay no one’s keeping him informed. The rest of us are going to keep an eye on our prisoner. If he makes a phone call or makes any move in the wrong direction, or even exhales the wrong way, we’re going to see it.” John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You all know we’re supposed to be on vacation and not anywhere near him, so anyone who wants to step out now is welcome to do so, no questions asked.”

  None of them blinked, much less looked as if they wanted to bow out. It gave John a great sense of pride knowing his team stood behind him so loyally.

  “This will be one of our toughest jobs. We have got to blend in completely, no mistakes. Fellow agents might recognize us.”

  Tex chuckled. “Are you kidding? We’re the best there is. No one is going to recognize us. Besides, we’ve definitely had a lot tougher ones. Remember that time in Baghdad…”

  John held up his hand. “If anyone does recognize us, I don’t want to think about what might happen if Brubaker discovers how close we are, or that we’re watching and not on vacation like we’re supposed to be.

  “Smith was able rob banks, make threatening phone calls, sneak into people’s homes, climb on roofs, and watch everyone via his computer. We can’t put anything past him. I don’t care what the director says or thinks. No one is safe as long as this monster is not locked in a cell that’s ten stories underground. I want him kept under constant surveillance. I want to know what he eats for breakfast. I want to know every time he picks his nose. And I don’t have to tell you, gentlemen, this is all under the radar. The director is obviously pulling favors. And Smith has probably promised all kinds of shit like locations of bodies, maybe even confessing to past crimes. But we know firsthand just how bad and slippery he really is. So the minute he steps out of line, we need to be there to grab him. I doubt we’ll get a second chance.”

  “I’ll get new magnets for the surveillance vans. Too many people know what we use and might recognize us in them,” said Al. He and Louis worked in the surveillance vans, recording and watching. They never played decoy. They’ve never asked to play decoy.

  John looked at them. “Are you sure you two want in on this? You don’t have to.”

  Al and Louis looked at one another. Al was shorter and rounder. Louis was tall and lanky and geeky. Al had a serious disposition. Louis was carefree and talked a lot about women. But they were like two sides of a coin and worked well together.

  “What? And miss out on all this fun? I don’t think so,” said Louis. “Besides my horror scope—” He always called it that, as if it was really words, “for today said I was going to meet a sweet brunette, and I think she’s standing right over there.” He nodded to Abigail.

  For the first time since he’d gotten the phone call that Bob Smith was going on a road trip, John felt better. Yes, his team had suffered. But not now. Now they were together and moving forward with a plan. A plan was always good. He glanced at Abigail before he sent his hard gaze to Louis. “Don’t even think about it, geek. I’m taking her to dinner.”

  For a long moment, they were all completely silent, staring at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted horns out the top of his head.

  Then a series of slight whistles and catcalls and chuckles moved around the table.

  “That’s enough, guys, she’s going to hear you.” John met Gil’s gaze. He had shared a lot with this team of men, but he and Gil shared their own personal hell, each having lost a wife.

  “Is that so?” Gil asked.

  “Yes, I already asked her. She said yes, and I’m meeting her at six.” He glanced at her again. This time, he discovered she was watching him and she smiled. He smiled back.

  Then he leaned in again and shared the plan he formulated.

  Chapter Six

  Detective Emily Benton stared at the body. It was true the dead told no lies. But murder victims spoke in volumes. In the past year, Emily had learned to listen. As long as she didn’t need to go throw up. The everything bagel she’d had two hours ago was thankfully long gone. But bile still burned her throat.

  Tortured.

  Claudia Miller was tortured. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

  Although dead silent now, Emily could almost hear Claudia’s screams, even though no one else probably did, not even her killer. The bastard had glued her lips shut with some sort of quick, permanent adhesive.

  Jim Dresden, the Medical Examiner, knelt beside the body, carefully attaching bags over her hands to contain any evidence that might be there. There were healing scratches on her arms above the bags.

  “What can you tell me, Jim?”

  Emily knew what Claudia would tell her if she could…

  He raped me…more than once.

  He burned me with a lit cigar.

  He cut me.

  He cut off my hair.

  He stabbed me with…

  She wanted this killer so bad she could taste him as well as she tasted the bile. No one was allowed to torture another human. Not like this. Not ever.

  “Multiple burns and stab puncture wounds. If I had to guess on cause of death, I’d say she probably bled out. But from my first examination, I’d say he was really careful about where he stuck her. No wounds near her heart, liver or aorta. Several deep muscular puncture wounds from something thicker in diameter than an ice pick. Some of them are even pa
rtially healed over. He wanted to cause her pain but keep her alive as long as possible.”

  “She wasn’t strangled with the neck tie?”

  “Doesn’t appear to have been. There are no bruises or wounds in the neck area at all, but I’ll know more after I get her on my table.”

  Emily stared at the body, studying the young woman. “Time of death?”

  “Given the temperature of the body, the temperature out here, as well as the stages of her wounds and lack of rigor, my best guess right now is sometime early yesterday.” He finished bagging her hands and moved to do the same to her bare feet.

  “So he kidnaps her right out off the grocery store parking lot, tortures her for almost a week, kills her in the morning.” She was talking out loud, but not really to the Medical Examiner. She was really just going over the details of the crime. Saying the words gave her a rhythm and helped her put the killer into some sort of perspective, as if that was really possible. “But doesn’t dump her on a park bench in the park until much later. If he had put her here yesterday, she’d have been found sooner. So what did he do with her for the next twelve to fifteen hours?”

  “Same thing he did with the one we found last week.” Jim stood. “Maybe he just drove around with her in the back seat.”

  She stood up, too, and finally looked at Jim. “Will you be able to tell me if the bra and panties she has on are hers or if he just dressed her in them?”

  “I’ll do my best. And you’d better do your best to catch this psycho because I heard another college student was taken this morning in the campus parking lot. If this is our guy, you’ve got about a week to find her before we have to slip number three into a body bag.”

  “How’d you hear about another girl?”

  “The one this morning managed to call in a nine-one-one, and her phone was found under a nearby car in the college parking lot. So the abduction and her call for help were caught on the dispatch recording, making this one a little different since the police won’t be waiting the usual twenty-four hours before someone can declare her missing.”