Less than one minute passed before Edwards heard “all clear in the house” passed by the assault team commander. He holstered his weapon and entered the house, which had a warm, but purposefully constructed Pottery Barn feel. The Petrovich couple clearly hadn���t held back spending money on decorating their house. He noted a few expensively framed local prints set against the deep rust colored paint in the hallway that passed the stairs.
Edwards approached the warmly lit kitchen, where he heard an angry female voice spitting obscenities. As he entered the kitchen area, he noticed that one of the pendant lights over the kitchen island was swinging, and the deep blue glass casing of the light lay scattered on the dark brown granite. To his left, more shattered glass covered the small pine table and hardwood flooring in the small nook area right off the kitchen. A SWAT team member stood in the middle of an opening that used to be a sliding glass door, his assault rifle pointed downward at the deck, but still in a ready grip.
Shards of broken glass crackled under Special Agent Edwards
“Careful. She moves quick,” said one of the black clad officers near the mudroom door.
An athletic woman, dressed in black running shorts and a jog bra, lie pressed to the hardwood floor by two men in full body armor and tactical gear. The woman’s face, covered by her luxurious brown hair, was jammed against the dark pine planks by one of the men’s thick, gloved hands. He really wanted to the see the face attached to this woman’s body. He saw a few shards of blue glass from the pendant light near one of the officer’s boots, and hoped they hadn’t jammed her face down on any glass. If they did, she was taking the pain pretty well. He suddenly liked the possibility of her taking pain. Another agent kneeled on her lower back, struggling to tighten the black zip tie surrounding her wrists. She struggled against the men, and almost turned over onto her side.
“Will someone fucking sit on her legs!” the officer attempting to cuff her shouted, and another SWAT officer edged past the refrigerator and nearly jumped down on her legs.
The woman cried out in pain and gave it one more try, nearly toppling the guy working on her hands. She was strong, and Edwards felt strangely aroused. He wanted to be on top of her, and had to use every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to keep himself from making the suggestion. They’d laugh him out of the house, and frankly, he was better off where he stood. Right now, she looked like she could snap him in half.
“Hit her with the stun gun!” yelled the officer on her back, then mumbled, “Calm this bitch down.”
“Sergeant! We need to hit her with the zapper!” another officer yelled into the house.
Sergeant Jimmy Haldron ran into the kitchen from the family room, pushed Edwards aside, and quickly assessed the situation. He leaned down toward the woman’s head to speak to her.
“Hey, calm down ma’am. This is over. There’s nothing you can do about your situation right now, except calm down. We don’t want to hurt you, but we need you to take it easy. We’re not here for you, and if you calm down, you’ll be released once we finish our job here. Can you help me with this?” he said, in a calm, authoritative voice.
The woman stopped twisting, and seemed to melt into the flooring. The officer on her back pressed down harder, yanking the twist ties deeply into her wrists, causing her to gasp.
“Donnelly! Take it easy,” Sergeant Haldron said, and gave him a pissed off look.
“We’ll get those off you soon. Everyone is a little amped up here,” he said.
Edwards decided he would step in at this point and take charge of the situation, now that SWAT was no longer needed. He couldn’t wait to dismiss these idiots from the scene.
“Sergeant, have your men move her over into the family room, on the couch. I assume Petrovich isn’t here?” said Edwards.
“No. His car is gone, and the house is clear. My teams are checking for hidden compartments,” he said, and directed orders to his men, “Get her up, and bring her over here.”
“Have your men start working the neighborhood for leads. I’ll deal with her,” said Edwards, excited about starting his interrogation of Jessica Petrovich.
“My men aren’t going door to door. We’ve got detectives and patrol officers for that. You want a couple of my guys to stand by while you talk to her?” said Haldron, looking him square in the eye.
“Probably not a bad idea. She seems a little feisty,” admitted Edwards.
“Feisty? She came at me with some kind of judo chop,” said the officer pinning her head to the floor.
“This Nazi stormtrooper tried to butt stroke me with his rifle. I was just standing there,” hissed the woman.
“She came at me with a weapon,” said the officer.
“I was about to have some yogurt when you crashed through the glass. Sorry if I couldn’t react fast enough to drop the spoon in my hand,” she said, in a voice muffled by her squished face.
Edwards glanced at the wet floor between her waist and the counter cabinets, and spotted a small spoon protruding from under her body. He chuckled and turned to Sergeant Haldron.
“I’ll have my techs bag up the spoon she used against your officers,” he said, pointing at the silverware next to her body.
Nobody laughed, and he heard a few mumbled ���fuck you’s���, but he didn’t care. They would never respect him, and he would always resent their type. He had better things to do with his time, and one of those things was Daniel Petrovich’s wife. When they lifted her off the kitchen floor, he got really excited. She was beautiful, almost exotic, possibly Middle Eastern. Their eyes locked for a moment, and he would have sworn her murderous glare softened. He couldn’t wait to break the news to her that her husband was wanted by the FBI for murder and terrorism. He’d watch her world crumble and her self-esteem evaporate, then he’d offer her a shoulder to cry on, and maybe a drink down in that crummy little downtown area they call the Old Port. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be such a waste of time after all.
“We’re not here for her. Take it easy,” said Edwards.
One of the officers holding her hissed in her ear, “We’re here for you now. Just make a move and I’ll bust up that pretty face.”
“Sergeant Haldron!” Edwards yelled, and Haldron walked over to intervene.
“What do you need?” said Haldron, clearly sick of Edwards.
“I just need some professionalism. And I need you to control your men. Now sit her down on the couch and remove her restraints,” said Edwards, staring at one of the officers holding her.
“Are you fucking kidding me? We just busted our asses getting this one under control,” said the same officer.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Sergeant Haldron, and a few other officers chimed in from the kitchen.
Edwards walked briskly past the officers, pushing his way through to the back of the kitchen. At this point, he had experienced enough of their insubordination. They were undermining his authority with the witness, and sabotaging his carefully laid plans to coax information out of her. These goons had no idea that nothing else mattered at this point. Only Jessica Petrovich held the key to finding her husband, and if he didn’t play the situation right, she’d shut down for good. He grabbed a pair of kitchen shears from the knife rack, and walked up to Jessica, who was still in the grips of two very large, heavily geared officers.
“Move out of the way,” he said, and the two officers let go of Jessica.
Edwards cut her plastic restraints and tossed the scissors to the floor behind him. He lingered close to her, and her smell was intoxicating. He felt himself starting to float away from the scene, and needed to ground himself. She was incredible.
“Sorry about this. Why don’t you grab a seat on the couch,” he said softly, before turning to Haldron.
“I don’t want any of these guys in here. Understood?”
“You want to be in here alone with this one?” asked Haldron.
Edwards considered Haldron’s comment, and decided
that it held no double entendre. He wanted to be alone with this woman more than anyone could possible know, but that’s not what Haldron meant. Couldn’t be. They thought she was dangerous.
“I think she’ll be fine without someone trying to smash her skull in,” said Edwards.
“She was holding a weapon!” yelled an officer from the kitchen.
“She was holding a spoon, dummy,” said Edwards.
“Hey. Take it easy on my men. They don’t have the luxury of walking into a cleared structure. They go in first, and have no idea what they’ll find. I didn’t notice you rushing in behind them,” said Haldron.
“I didn’t want to get shot…by them,” said Edwards, and Haldron looked like he might lose his composure.
Standing peacefully in front of the couch, Jessica regarded them both, showing the slightest sign of smiling at Edwards.
“I’ll give you some privacy here, but as long as Portland Police officers are required on the scene, I’ll keep some of my guys posted to keep an eye on her.”
“That’s fine, Sergeant,” Edwards said, and turned to Jessica.
“Please. Have a seat. Are you alright? I saw some glass on the floor,” he said, walking over to her.
“I think I’m OK. I just haven’t had any time to process what’s happening. Someone said something about my husband being a murderer. What’s going on here? Who’s going to pay for everything they’ve broken? Look, I…”
“Take it easy, Mrs. Petrovich. You need to take a few moments to sit back and relax…”
“Is my husband OK? Did something happen to him?” she said, rubbing her face with her hands.
Her eyes were red, and he could see that she was starting to tear up. Fortunately for Edwards, she wore no make up to ruin the face with running streaks. God, she was stunning. Angular face, dark exotic skin, or she tanned a lot. Either way, he didn’t care. He didn’t care how she got there. The dark skin, killer looks and kick boxer physique was all he needed. He was glad to know that Petrovich wouldn’t be fucking her anymore. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else entangled in those legs. He had his work cut out for him, but he was starting to feel confident about his chances of seeing her naked tonight.
“Ms. Petrovich…”
“Jess. Please call me Jess. What’s going on with my husband?”
“It’s complicated,” said Edwards, taking a seat on the leather chair next to the couch.
He could move over to the couch if she started crying, but didn’t want to seem eager to get close to her.
“Is he safe? What were these guys expecting to find?” she pressed.
“I don’t know how to put this, but your husband is the prime suspect in a federal murder investigation,” he said.
“That doesn’t make any sense, Agent���?”
“Edwards. But just call me Justin.”
“Justin, none of this makes any sense. I think you all have the wrong house, or something isn’t right,” she said, looking around the room frightened.
At this point, though only a few officers lingered in the family room with them, dozens of officers had poured into the house over the past few minutes, and more were entering. Since the house wasn’t considered a crime scene, the Portland police wouldn’t tiptoe through her house. This would only get worse as they tore the place apart looking for hidden compartments or clues linking Daniel Petrovich to the murders and the past life he had hidden from his wife. He might need to get her out of here soon. She would find it hard to concentrate on him once his team started taking photos out of the frames for scanning.
“Jessica, how long have you and your husband been married?” asked Edwards, though he knew the answer would somehow eat away at something inside of him.
He glanced at a wedding photo sitting on a dark wood side table next to the couch. The picture had been taken with the ocean in the background. He thought it looked like the East Coast, somewhere north. Possibly right here in Maine.
“What do you…we’ve been married for four years,” she said.
“Have you known each other for a long time?”
“Long enough to know that you guys have made a serious mistake. This is ridiculous. We’re talking about having kids, and… does my husband have a lawyer yet? Maybe I shouldn’t be talking to you right now. I need to see my husband,” she said, stringing each sentence together after the other quickly.
Edwards needed to diffuse the lawyer talk quick. She wasn’t a suspect, and technically didn’t need one, but if she shut down on him and contacted a lawyer, he knew exactly what kind of advice the lawyer will give her: Shut up. He had limited time to work on this one, and hoped to wrap things up tonight, in more ways than one. He didn’t need some lawyer cooling things off.
“Jess, Jess,��� he soothed, ���I know this is a lot to take in, and I’m sorry you got roughed up here tonight, but we don’t have much time to help your husband.”
“What do you mean help him? Where is he?” she said, confused.
“That’s the problem. Nobody knows where he is. Can you help us with this? When did you see him last?” he said, and shifted a little closer to her.
“This morning before work. He left me a message in the morning saying he had to fly to D.C. to meet with one of his company’s clients. Something last minute. I was supposed to meet some friends out for drinks after work, but he always calls me, so I got a little worried. I went for a run instead. He must have something big going on at work. He didn’t sound like himself,” admitted Jessica.
Edwards thought this might be easier than he had expected. She had already given him information that could narrow their search for Petrovich, which surprised him. He had expected her to hold stuff like this from him, but for some reason she didn’t hesitate. Maybe their marriage wasn’t as solid as all of the pictures might indicate. She was clearly a little pissed that he had taken off without calling, and was willing to give up some general details. When she found out the true scope of his betrayal, he wondered if she might give him up completely. He didn’t believe for one second that she didn’t know exactly where they could find Petrovich, and now he was willing to bet she would cough him up given the right information about her husband.
“Did he give you any more details?” he said, hoping he might get lucky.
“No. He just said he had to fly unexpectedly to D.C. to meet with…” she said, and stopped cold. “What exactly is he suspected of?” she snapped.
“Jess, he’s a prime suspect in the murder of Mohammed Ghani. He was killed last night just a few miles from here in Cape Elizabeth. I was at the scene earlier today, and it wasn’t pretty. Whoever killed him knew exactly what they were doing,” said Edwards.
“I must be missing something here. How the fuck is my husband a suspect in that?” she said, raising her voice to the point that a few black helmets leaned into the room.
“I wish I could go into that more, but the details are classified for now. I’ll say this though,” he said, and leaned in close enough to smell her, “and you need to keep it to yourself for now,” he whispered.
She nodded quizzically and leaned in further, which drove his senses crazy. He felt a wave of raw physical energy pass through him, and nearly shuddered. Blood started to immediately flow to his groin, and he felt a tingling in his legs as he grew erect. He had to stop this, but he didn’t want to move away from her. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to strip her down in bed. He moved back slightly, afraid he might lose control, and regained enough of his senses to continue talking to her. Only a few women had affected him like this before, and he’d enjoyed dominating them in bed. This one would be no exception to Justin’s conquests, but first he had some work to do.
“Your husband’s name came up on a list of former covert military operatives connected to the murders. Have you seen the news today? Eight prominent Arab businessmen were killed last night,” he said, and let this sink in, studying her face for a reaction.
She looke
d confused for a few seconds, but this changed when she started to speak. “This is crazy. I know my husband, and I can assure you this is a major fuck up. I want everyone out of my house right now!” she yelled, and stood up from the couch.
The two SWAT officers stepped into the room, and Edwards gently placed a hand on her left shoulder.
“Please, Jess. I don’t think you fully understand the situation here. We have a warrant for your husband’s arrest and to search this house,” he said, and she hesitated to sit back down on the couch, looking at him with distrust.
“Special Agent Adams!” he yelled, and heard a muffled acknowledgement.
A few seconds later, a middle aged Caucasian man wearing a blue windbreaker with the letters ���FBI��� printed across the front in bright yellow letters, appeared from the kitchen area.
“I need the warrant,” said Edwards, and the Adams stepped into the room with a black nylon document bag.
He pulled the warrant out, and handed it to Edwards, who dismissed him with his hand. One of the SWAT officers saw the dismissal and mumbled something just loud enough to be heard by the agent in charge.
“I’m sorry. What was that? Officer���?”
“Officer ���none of your motherfucking business,���” said the serious looking, heavily armed police officer, completely unimpressed with Edwards.
He looked at Jess and shook his head.
“I’m glad my team was here for this. These guys are animals,” he said loud enough for the officer to hear him, and she nodded her head slightly, which was a good sign for Edwards.
“Here. Take a few minutes to read through this. I’m afraid there is no mistake.”
He sat there fidgeting while she took her time reading the warrant. He glanced nervously at the two openings to the room, looking specifically for the SWAT officers. His hatred for these arrogant animals penetrated his core. They were the same in the FBI. A bunch of gun crazy bullies dressed up in scary body armor, carrying enough weaponry to level a small building. And when they couldn’t level doors and buildings, they pushed everyone else around, including the “regular” agents. Edwards had done the research, and discovered that the advent of FBI and local SWAT teams had had no impact on public or law enforcement safety. From what he could tell, the teams just ate up funding and delayed every single investigation involving a possible dangerous suspect. He hated them.
Black Flagged Page 17
