Blue Steele Box Sets 2

by Remington Kane

  I put down the phone and snuggled closer to Ramón, as I drifted off to sleep while smiling.

  Chapter 19

  Deputy United States Marshal Walter Vasicek looked at me as if I had just kicked his puppy.

  The two Marshals along with him seemed none too happy either, although the youngest of the three kept giving me admiring glances. I did not mind that; the man was a hunk.

  Marshal Vasicek laid down the ground rules as I stood in the empty parking lot of a drive-in theater in Vineland, New Jersey. It was a real, working drive-in theater, and I had thought the one that Ramón and I went to in Ennis Texas was the last one left.

  The three men arrived in two unmarked SUV’s with windows tinted so dark that I couldn’t see inside them. I assumed that Claire Rothman was sitting in one of them and waiting to talk to me, but first, I had to get past Deputy United States Marshal Walter Vasicek.

  Vasicek counted off on his stubby fingers.

  “1) You will not ask the Program Participant her current name, 2) You will not ask the Program Participant where her current residence is, 3) You will not give the Program Participant your name, 4) If the Program Participant decides to end the interview early, it ends, period. And 5) An electronic recording device is monitoring the conversation between you and the Program Participant. If you break any of the first four rules, I will make sure you are reprimanded fully. Do you understand me, lady?”

  “I do Deputy Marshal, clearly, but may I ask you a question?”

  “If you must.”

  “Exactly what is it that I’ve done to offend you?”

  Vasicek looked annoyed by the question but said nothing.

  “You’re really being a dick to Special Agent Steele, Walt.”

  Those words came from the good-looking agent, the blond one. I sent him a smile of thanks and he winked back at me.

  I sighed inside, being in a committed relationship is great, but there is a downside.

  Vasicek visibly relaxed then and sent me a sheepish smile.

  “I apologize for my rudeness and short temper, Special Agent, I… I recently suffered the loss of a close friend.”

  I gave him a sympathetic touch on his arm.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “We all miss Charlie, Walt,” the third Marshal said. He was an older man with graying hair.

  Vasicek took a deep breath.

  “Anyway, Claire Rothman is in the rear of that second SUV. You have thirty minutes; I hope she helps your case.”

  “Thank you.”

  Claire Rothman was sixty-one, with shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes. Her face was pleasant-looking but displayed a quality of sadness.

  We were in the SUV alone, and in the backseat. I turned toward her as fully as I could and gave her a smile.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

  “You’re welcome… miss? Wait, they told me not to ask you your name.”

  “I understand, and I really only have a few questions.”

  “About Victoria Belle?”

  “Yes, and anything you can tell me about her would be helpful.”

  “I can tell you that she and my husband… ex-husband, they share a connection. I once thought it was sexual, but it goes deeper than that. In fact, I would be surprised if they ever slept together.”

  “She dropped out of sight for nearly twenty years, but we know from DNA matches at various crime scenes that she’s traveled around. Would you know of anywhere she might have a preference for?”

  “No, but I saw her rarely and it was as you say, twenty years ago.”

  “Was there some place she always wanted to visit? Do you know if she preferred a certain climate?”

  Claire shook her head. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

  I looked at her curiously.

  “Why did you agree to meet with me?”

  “Because I didn’t see the harm, and it’s so nice to talk to someone new, and someone who knows my name. I committed no crimes, miss, except the crime of letting love blind me to what Robert really was. I’m in the witness protection program for my safety, and they nearly denied me.”

  “Who are you afraid of, Victoria Belle?”

  She looked surprised by the question.

  “No, I’m afraid of Robert, if he ever gets free he’ll come for me, not to harm me, mind you, but so that we could be together again. But I’m no longer blinded by love and I could never be near him again without thinking of all those poor girls he’s killed.”

  “Your ex-husband is locked away in a high-security prison. I’ve been there, and I assure you, he is not getting out.”

  “Are you absolutely certain?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Claire smiled at me. “That’s a Texas accent, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is.”

  “I was born there, but we moved to Indiana when I was little.” She sighed. “I miss my farm in Indiana, and the place they put me, well, I’m not supposed to talk about it, but I’ll just tell you that it’s as far from farm life as you can get, and oh how I miss the open spaces.”

  “I’m sorry the way things turned out for you.”

  She gave me a sharp look.

  “Don’t pity me. It’s my own stupidity that’s led to this. I never should have trusted Robert once I knew what he was.”

  I filled the rest of our time by approaching her from different angles about Belle, but she was unable to think of anything that could help me. However, she did reinforce my view that Rothman was the only thing that mattered to Belle other than herself.

  As I was getting out of the vehicle, Claire called to me.

  “You’re a very nice young woman, but please be careful, Victoria Belle is ruthless.”

  I assured her that I would take precautions and told her goodbye.

  As the other Marshals climbed into their vehicles, the handsome one gave me his card.

  “Call me sometime; maybe we’ll get together for drinks or dinner someday.”

  I showed him my ring.

  “Sorry, but I already have a dinner companion.”

  He removed his left hand from his pocket and showed me his own wedding band.

  “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

  I said, “Goodbye Marshal,” and walked back to my rental.

  Apparently, Claire Rothman wasn’t the only woman who hadn’t married well.

  Chapter 20

  Lawson called me at the airport as I was about to board my plane home.

  Victoria Belle had surfaced, and in an unexpected and spectacular way. She had attacked the elderly night watchman of a supply house that specialized in heavy construction materials. She’d confronted the watchman as he showed up for work, then gained access to the company’s supplies and equipment.

  After forcing the man at gunpoint to load up a truck with over a ton of material, Belle shot him dead and drove off in the vehicle.

  Exterior security cameras captured her arrival and departure; however, the cameras were linked solely to a video system kept on site. No one was alerted about the robbery until warehouse workers arrived the following morning.

  This took place in the Washington DC area and so that was my next stop.

  As I picked up the new ticket that Lawson had arranged for me, I gave Ramón a call to tell him that I wouldn’t be returning home that day after all.

  “I understand,” he said with a sigh, “but you be very careful there; that woman is dangerous.”

  “It’s even worse than you think,” I said. “The truck she stole was loaded with over a ton of construction-grade explosives.”

  “What? Why? Is she graduating to terrorist?”

  “That is the question that everyone is asking, why?”

  My hotel was near the Capitol Building. After I checked-in, I gave Lawson a call.

  “I’m here, is there any news?”

  “Not as yet, and I mostly want you there in case she surfaces, in the meantime you can rela
x. Since the robbery, she now has the ATF on her tail as well. Those explosives have everyone nervous.”

  “I believe it, any idea what she could have planned?”

  “No, but it can’t be good, and did you learn anything from Claire Rothman?”

  “Just that she’s miserable in her new life, but she was unable to help.”

  “Well, you knew it was a long shot.”

  “Yes.”

  “How were you treated by the Marshal’s, any problems?”

  “A rough start, but when I asked the reason for it I was told it was nothing personal; apparently they just lost one of their own, and he was a close friend.”

  “Ah, yes, I heard about that, but I didn’t know it happened in the northeast.”

  “What happened?”

  “A Marshal killed his live-in girlfriend and then shot himself. They say the woman was beaten to death while covered in a plastic painter’s tarp.”

  “Oh my God, that’s horrible, but why the tarp?”

  “Probably to avoid blood spatter, if so, that made it premeditated, but I guess after the deed was done he couldn’t live with himself.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Just a few days ago.”

  “That’s tragic, but getting back to Belle, what’s my play here?”

  “Just standby for now.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes, but get together with FBI Special Agent Rob Truent at the FBI headquarters tomorrow morning at nine. You’ll be expected. I also want you to think things over tonight, try to figure out why Belle wanted the explosives.”

  “I can think of one reason, but it’s an insane idea.”

  “What is it?”

  “Maybe she’s planning on breaking Rothman out of prison.”

  Lawson said nothing for a moment and then I heard him release a long, slow breath.

  “That is insane, but so is she. I can’t imagine that it’s possible, even with explosives, but I’ll ask the experts and get back to you.”

  Later that day, I was standing at the window in my hotel room, after having pushed the room service cart into the hall. Lawson called back.

  “She’s surfaced, Blue, and this time there’s a living witness. Get over to George Washington University Hospital and join up with Special Agent Truent. He’ll be in the trauma unit and he’ll fill you in on the details. It looks like you might be right and that she’s planning on breaking Rothman out of prison.”

  “I’m on it.”

  I had rented a car at the airport, and after fiddling with the GPS, I was on my way to the hospital. Lawson sent me a text as I was stopped at a traffic light.

  OFFICER DOWN AT DUPONT CIRCLE AND THE PERP STOLE HIS SQUAD CAR, PERP THOUGHT TO BE VICTORIA BELLE. MEET AGENT TRUENT ON SCENE.

  I read the text twice. Could it be Belle, and why was she stealing a DC patrol car?

  I reached the hospital and my GPS took me past it and to one of the largest traffic circles I’d ever seen. It made me think of the one in Waco, Texas, although there was a whole lot more to see at this one.

  It was nighttime, and so it was dark, but I knew that my destination would be awash in red and blue emergency lights. As I drove past a huge bookstore I saw the strobe of lights. After turning onto Connecticut Ave, I drove past the Starbucks where all the action was and parked down the street behind a police car with its lights off.

  Apparently, the officer who had been shot had been taken away because there was no sign of an ambulance. There was a crowd of police and feds gathered in front of the Starbucks, and so I walked back toward them. I was wearing jeans and a leather jacket. When I zipped open the jacket, my badge was plain to see on my hip, in front of my holster, and so I was allowed through.

  The first thing I saw was the blood, and there was a lot of it. I turned to one of the cops gathered, a police detective in a three-piece-suit, and asked about the officer’s condition.

  “They say he’ll live, but he was shot twice. A bullet in the leg, and the other one snuck past his vest.”

  “Thank God he’ll make it, and do you know where I can find Special Agent Truent?”

  The man looked around and then nodded at a group of three by a lamppost, two men and a woman.

  “Truent is the tall guy.”

  I thanked him and introduced myself to Truent and the other FBI agents. Truent was very tall, and about fifty with a pale complexion and short, graying hair. He had a disinterested air about him that I took as world-weariness.

  “They just found the cop car abandoned near the Taft Bridge, but no sign of Belle, if it was Belle,” Truent said.

  “Exactly what happened here?”

  “The cop that was shot is an Officer Damon Stark; Stark heard the call about the first victim and then stops in here for a coffee. Stark’s sergeant says the kid’s brain works like facial recognition software, he never forgets a face.”

  “He spotted her?”

  “Yeah, as Stark was leaving with his coffee, Victoria Belle walked by. She was in the middle of a group of Australian tourists. Unfortunately, Belle must have noticed his reaction, because she shoots him in the side and the bullet slips past the edge of his vest, nicking a lung. Stark drops his weapon before he can fire, but then he grabs Belle’s left arm and won’t let go. A witness says that Stark damn near tore her arm off before she managed to shoot him again in the leg.”

  “It sounds like he injured her.”

  “Yeah, and we’re checking emergency rooms and clinics.”

  “Who was the first victim?”

  Truent’s blank gaze studied me as he answered.

  “A Cathy Givens, she’s an employee of DOJ, not an agent or anything, she’s in administration, Belle attacked her at home and made her access the database for archives. Her throat is cut, but she survived.”

  I screwed up my face in confusion.

  “Why did Belle want to access the Department of Justice database?”

  “Get this, she downloaded the blueprints for The United States Penitentiary at Terre Haute.”

  “The prison where Robert Rothman is being held.”

  Truent sent me the blank look once more, and then said one word.

  “Bingo!”

  Chapter 21

  Early the following morning, at FBI Headquarters, Truent held up a clear evidence bag that contained what looked like a credit card, but had the word, METROCARD, printed on it.

  After being shot in the side, the cop, Officer Damon Stark, grabbed at Belle. In the struggle, she shot him again, not realizing that Stark had torn the pocket on her jacket. The card in the bag was found lying near him.

  “That’s used for the subway, right?”

  Truent nodded. He sat at a desk that was one of many in a large room. It was early, and so only a handful of agents had arrived.

  “It is for the subway, but not here, this is used up in New York City.”

  “How certain are we that it belongs to Belle?”

  “It was covered in smudged prints, but there’s a partial match to Victoria Belle, nothing that would hold up in court, but the lab says the ‘Whorl Pattern and Bifurcation’ indicate that it’s her.”

  “And we’re certain it was Belle who shot Officer Stark?”

  “Yes, her prints were all over the stolen cop car.”

  I sighed.

  “It’s still insane to think that she could break Rothman out, even with a ton of explosives and blueprints of the prison.”

  “She’s an insane kind of lady.”

  “That she is, so what’s next?”

  “We keep looking, but now we also have people searching in Indiana and New York City. Also, state troopers from here to Indiana have been alerted to keep an eye out for that stolen truck.”

  “A needle in a haystack,” I said, “And what if she’s switched trucks?”

  Truent smiled for the first time.

  “It’s not all bad news. Officer Stark says he’s certain that he dislocated her left shou
lder when they struggled, in any event, he says she cried out in pain.”

  “Good for him; I’d like to deliver some pain to her myself.”

  “Wouldn’t we all,” Truent said.

  I spent an unproductive week in DC following around Special Agent Rob Truent as we waited for Belle to show herself again. It turned out that Truent had a surprisingly good sense of humor; it kept things from getting boring. When Belle didn’t surface, I headed for home, and Rob promised to keep me informed of any new leads.

  The days I spent in DC left me with a lot of time to think, and after spending a day at home, I called Lawson and asked him for a favor.

  “New York City? Why, because of that transit card?”

  “Exactly, it’s the one piece that doesn’t fit. Maybe New York City is where she goes to get lost in a crowd.”

  “There are over eight million people there, so it makes sense, but given that, how do you expect to find her in a crowd of that size?”

  “Pure luck.”

  Lawson chuckled. “Well, at least you’re honest, but don’t you think Indiana is a better bet? The entire state has less population than New York City.”

  “True, but my gut says New York City, and I’m sure the ATF and FBI are crawling all over Indiana hoping to find that truckload of explosives.”

  “That’s certainly true. All right, if your gut says New York City then that’s good enough for me, but please check in once a day.”

  “You got it, boss, and thanks.”

  I got off the phone and went out to the patio where Ramón was grilling hamburgers. I had tossed a salad earlier, and we sat out on the patio and ate.

  “So you’re off again? I’ll be glad when you catch that bitch; she keeps you away from home too much.”

  “It’s still better than the eight weeks we were apart while I underwent training at Quantico.”

  “That’s’ true,” he said.

  I smiled. “Would you like to come with me?”

  “To New York City?”