Thick Fog (Alexis Parker Book 18)

by G. K. Parks

  “So Steele’s doling out punishment based on his perceived sleight and the roles you each had in his undoing. But the order makes no sense. The last man involved was his first target, and the first man involved was his second target. Theoretically, you’re at the end of the list. How long do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know. Obviously, other agents were involved, witnesses, attorneys, judges, and the jury. I have no idea how deep or invested he is in getting revenge. But I’m certain Detective Heathcliff is on the list. Steele will want him to suffer.”

  “More than Agent Cooper?”

  “A lot more.” My stomach flipped as my imagination conjured unsettling images of Derek tortured, maimed, and mutilated. “Any chance you could assign a few guys to keep an eye on him?”

  Lucien worked his jaw for a moment. “Detective Heathcliff. That would make him a cop. You know my stance on working with the police.”

  “They wouldn’t have to know about it. Heathcliff would probably refuse outside protection, anyway.” Though I hoped Moretti was smart enough to assign a patrol car to sit on him.

  “You’re sure Steele will go after him?”

  “He already tried once when we were undercover. He’ll do it again, and this time, he won’t miss.” I shivered, pulling my legs up so I could hug my knees. Too much violence. Too many possibilities. I didn’t care what Derek said. The spray painted message on his front door had to have been Steele’s doing, and I told Lucien that.

  “If Heathcliff has any cop instincts whatsoever, he’ll spot the tail. I’ll only assign a team of bodyguards to watch him if he agrees to it. I don’t want my guys arrested for stalking. And the police are vindictive bastards. That’s exactly what they’ll do. So if you want a team to watch over your detective pal, that’s a nonnegotiable condition. Get him on board, and you got it.”

  “Let me make a quick call.” Fishing out my phone, I called Derek.

  “Hey, I was just about to call you,” he said before I could get a word in edgewise. “We spoke to Roderick Ames, the clerk at the Stop N’ Shop, and he handed over the hard drives with the security camera footage from the last two weeks. Techs are already analyzing it against facial recognition. I’ll give it a look as soon as I get a chance, just in case the computer missed something. O’Connell spoke to IT about the voice analysis, and they think the caller is indeed a match to Francisco Steele.”

  “I told you so.”

  “Yeah, I know. I never doubted that. But I’ll tell O’Connell you told him so. Forensics also found foreign DNA at the second scene. A few drops of blood, diluted by saliva.”

  “Cooper punched the killer in the mouth,” I said.

  “That would be my guess. We sent a swab over to Kendall’s people, but our lab’s already working on it. Moretti put a rush on it. Hopefully, we’ll get something by tomorrow. Steele’s DNA is on file, so are most of the gangbangers we scooped up in those raids. We’ll find out who’s responsible. And we’ll have irrefutable proof to back it. We’re going to get this guy, Parker. I promise.”

  “What did gangs have to say?”

  “They aren’t sure what’s going down, but since Jablonsky was shot, the streets have emptied. The corner boys aren’t working. No one’s around. Everyone’s staying inside. Even the KXDs’ and Lords’ regular hangouts, bars, and strip joints are empty.”

  “The KXDs and the Lords? Aren’t they rivals?”

  “Nope. After Bard’s arrest, the KXDs started to crumble. And when you and Jablonsky brought in Steele, that was nearly the final nail in their coffin. Neither gang has the power they once did. And they both lacked leadership after the sweeping arrests, but they managed to hold their ground and maintain the status quo in terms of moving product. The Mexican cartel assisted by sending in additional firepower and product and helping them reorganize. They joined forces. They’re allies now.”

  “Desperation makes for strange bedfellows,” I said.

  “Face it, the cartel needs the gangs to move product, so they stepped in and forced the two sides to play nice.”

  “Who’s running them now?” I asked.

  “Gangs believes Bard is still calling the shots from inside prison.”

  “Has he had any contact with Steele?” I asked.

  “We’re working on it. Thompson’s getting the paperwork together so we can access prison records, but according to the Department of Corrections, Steele and Bard are being detained in separate facilities.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. They could still talk or pass messages back and forth.”

  “I know, but we won’t have anything solid until we get a peek at the visitor and call logs and see who they’ve communicated with. Moretti tossed around the theory Bard could be behind the hits, and he ordered Steele to make it happen as a test of loyalty.”

  “That could be. For the KXDs to stay indoors and stop dealing, the order had to come from the top of the food chain. They wouldn’t close up shop otherwise. And the cartels don’t care if the foot soldiers get caught or brought in on murder charges, but Bard might. And so would Steele. Flip a coin. The two aren’t that different, but Steele called me. He threatened me. That’s his doing, not Bard’s.”

  “That’s what I told Moretti, which means whoever controls the gang also controls the killer,” Heathcliff said. “All right, I’ll run with that and see what else I can dig up.”

  “Derek,” I stopped him before he could hang up, “my gut says you’re on the list. You might be next.”

  “More reason to wrap this up quickly.”

  “How do you feel about having a few guys watch your back?”

  “I already got a few guys watching my back.”

  “I don’t mean other cops.”

  “Like bodyguards?” He scoffed. “I probably feel the same way you do about that.”

  “Does that mean I can okay a Cross Security team to shadow you?”

  “Fuck no. Moretti already assigned a patrol unit to stay on my ass. I don’t need the protection, Parker. I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry so much. I’ll call you when I know more.” He hung up before I could protest.

  Cross watched as I angrily shoved the phone into my pocket. My boss did his best to conceal the smug look, but the effort was wasted when he said, “To quote you, I told you so.”

  Twelve

  I shoved my ID into my pocket as I entered Mark’s room. Martin sat with his head resting in his hand while he thumbed his phone. He didn’t bother looking up when the door closed.

  I sat beside him and traced the tight muscles balled together along his back and shoulders. He turned to look at me, and I kissed him. “How are you?” I asked.

  “No change,” he said.

  “No, handsome, I want to know how you are.” I looked down at the phone in his lap that he hadn’t let go of. “Is that work? Do you have to go to the office?”

  “It is, but I don’t want to leave him alone. What if he wakes up?”

  “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Martin sighed, running his free hand through his hair and making it stick out at a right angle. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” I massaged the spot on his shoulder that often got sore, but even that did little to alleviate the tension in his body. “After you put out the fires at work, you should go home, take a shower, change your clothes, eat something that doesn’t come in a wrapper, and maybe get some sleep.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me? I’m fresh as a daisy.”

  “I’m not going to argue. You’re beautiful. You always are.”

  “Now I know you need sleep.”

  He chuckled. “All right. I’ll go in a minute.” He shot off a text and tucked his phone away. “Have you had any luck finding this asshole?”

  “Some. I know who’s responsible. Do you remember the man you pulled off of me that night in my apartment?”

  “After you had been reinstated and didn’t tell me?” Mar
tin asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t you and Jabber arrest him?”

  “Uh-huh.” I was glad Martin remembered those details more than the fact Steele tried to shoot me up with a lethal dose of heroin. “Francisco Steele. He’s pulling the strings, but we haven’t identified the assailant yet.” Another thought crossed my mind. “Or assailants. Right now, we believe members of Steele’s gang or former gang might be doing his bidding. I placed a request to speak to him in prison, but authorization takes time. I don’t know if he’ll even agree to see me.”

  “He should. He called you twice,” Martin said. “Obviously, he has something to say.” Anger burned in his eyes. “He wants an audience with you, Alexis. He wants you dead. Taunting and threatening you over the phone isn’t nearly as satisfying as doing it in person. You need to be careful.”

  “Did Cross tell you that?”

  Martin met my eyes for a split second before looking away. “Prisons have a lot of security. You will be safe speaking to him, right?”

  I didn’t say anything. My mind had gone to dark places.

  “Alex,” he nudged me, “you’ll be safe, right?”

  “Yes. I’m just not sure Steele can say the same.” I licked my lips, my gaze resting on Mark. “I want to kill him for what he’s done, and I’m not sure I won’t.” I fought to keep myself from trembling.

  “You’re not a killer.”

  “We both know that’s not true. I’ve killed.”

  “In self-defense.”

  “Not always.” I inhaled, staring at Mark and willing him to wake up. I’d confess all my sins if that would make a difference. I’d do anything if he’d just open his eyes. “At Quantico, we’re taught to respond to threats rationally. We don’t shoot to kill because we’re pissed off. We shoot back in order to minimize the threat. We shoot back to serve the greater good, to protect the public at large, to protect ourselves, to protect each other. We shoot because the subject gave us no choice.”

  “You’re not a killer, sweetheart. You’ve taken lives, but you’ve never had a choice. I know that, even if you don’t.” He got out of the chair, knelt down, and kissed me. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here? I don’t have to go. I can stay. Guillot can handle things in my absence.”

  “No, you need a break. I’ll be fine. I need some alone time with Mark, anyway. I’ll just bitch and moan until he opens his eyes and tells me to shut up.”

  Martin smiled, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. “That’s one way to get him to snap out of it.”

  “Did you talk to that neuroscience guy?” I asked.

  “I did. I had Jabber’s scans sent to him. He took a look. He didn’t see anything particularly troubling, but he doesn’t want to be overly optimistic either. The human brain is a hard thing to predict.”

  “Tell me about it. I never know what you’re going to do next.”

  He winked. “Good.”

  After Martin left, I pulled out the intel Cross had given me and continued scanning the names and numbers. I’d let Cross Security handle the background checks. I just wanted to see if anything looked familiar. As usual, Cross’s prediction was right. It took more than three hours to get through everything. I made a list of questionable billing addresses and names, though I couldn’t be sure about any of them without looking at a computer or checking my notes. I read the names to Mark, expecting him to speak up if he recognized any of them, but he didn’t make a peep.

  I just picked up my phone to call Cross with the names I shortlisted when Mark let out a gasp. He wheezed; the machines started beeping. He couldn’t breathe. I ran to the door and threw it open, yelling for help.

  A nurse raced inside while a doctor sprinted down the hall toward us. He pushed his way into the room, knocking me out of the way. I watched as they checked Mark. The two exchanged words, and the nurse recalibrated the machine. It stopped beeping.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  The doctor glanced at me. “His breathing is overpowering the ventilator. We’ll take out the breathing tube and see if he can keep it up. He’s getting stronger. Hopefully, he’ll be out of the woods soon.”

  I liked this doctor better than the one who told us Mark might be a vegetable. But I didn’t trust either of them. The doctor removed the tube from Mark’s throat, which resulted in more wheezing, gasping, and a few strangled coughs, but his stats held steady. The nurse and doctor cleared out, and I went back inside, my head spinning.

  After making my call, I stared at the monitors until I could see the numbers even with my eyes closed. The steady beeping rhythm meant his condition remained stable. I listened to the sound, memorizing it, until it calmed my nerves. Mark was alive.

  I moved the two chairs into a makeshift cot at the foot of the bed, so I could stare at the monitors and watch them without cramping my neck. Then I balled up my jacket and used it as a pillow, hoping to get more comfortable. Eventually, I closed my eyes, concentrating on the sound of the monitors. One random beep and I would jump up and get help. At least, that’s what I told myself before falling into an uneasy sleep.

  Footsteps in the hallway woke me. I sat up straight and checked the time. 8:32. Mark’s vitals held steady. The knob turned, and Martin pushed his way into the room, carrying a large thermos and a white paper bag.

  “The doctors just told me Jabber’s breathing on his own,” Martin said.

  I dropped my feet to the floor and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. “He nearly scared me to death in the process.” I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, tugging it back and twisting it into a knot. “At least he looks more like himself without that apparatus taped to his face.”

  Martin gave Mark’s hand a squeeze before sitting in the chair I’d used as the bottom portion of my makeshift bed. He smelled like soap and a hint of expensive cologne. He had shaved and changed clothes. He wore a charcoal gray Henley underneath his leather jacket with dark wash jeans. Not exactly the usual tailored suits he wore to conduct business, but as always, Martin looked like a million bucks.

  “Did you get any sleep?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. The color had returned to his cheeks, and his eyes were bright and sharp, despite being bloodshot.

  “I lost forty-five minutes somewhere, so I guess so.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  Martin had spent a lot of time in hospitals due to his mother’s illness and more recently due to my close calls. But until now, I never realized just how much he hated them and how they sucked the life out of him. He reached into the bag and pulled out a set of plastic flatware and handed them to me.

  “My stomach’s in knots. I can’t eat,” I said.

  “It’s just soup, sweetheart. Guillot and I had a working dinner, and I ordered this for you. You love soup.” He removed the lid from the thermos, which doubled as a bowl, and handed it to me so he could pour. “You need your strength.”

  “Thanks.” I held the bowl in my lap, letting it cool.

  While I ate my dinner and made small talk with Martin, since we both needed a break from the far more serious and pressing issues, one thought nagged at me. Someone attacked Mark and killed Cooper in the first twenty-four hours. Since then, Steele had gone silent. No more calls or threats. Did he get smart and decide not to call in the tips? Or did my request to be placed on the prison visitor list freak him out? Maybe that unexpected move made him rethink his plan and would buy us some time. But even with the police and FBI searching for clues and taking every precaution, I couldn’t help but think if I didn’t determine who his next target was, we’d be responding to another tragedy by morning. The assailant worked quickly, so why would he slow down now? He wouldn’t, and as the seconds ticked by, I wondered when the next call would come in.

  Thirteen

  A member of the protection detail opened the door. “Parker?”

  I blinked against the harsh overhead lights. Martin withdrew his hand from where he’d been stroking my hair, and I lifted my hea
d off his lap and sat up. One glance at the monitors told me Mark’s condition remained the same.

  “What is it?” I asked, my voice gravelly.

  “Someone wants to speak to you.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “I’ll be right there.”

  The FBI agent nodded and closed the door.

  I checked my phone, but there were no messages. Did they find another of Steele’s victims? “What time is it?” I asked, my head swimming.

  “Just after five,” Martin said.

  “This can’t be good.” I took a deep breath, wondering who’d been killed. I didn’t think I’d survive losing any more friends or former colleagues. After considering locking myself in the bathroom and refusing to come out, I resigned myself to whatever awaited on the other side of the door. By now, it was too late to do anything except find the person responsible. And I would.

  Sensing something was wrong, Martin got up to stretch his legs and followed me out of the room. He probably figured I needed the moral support. The FBI agent pointed to a man waiting near the elevator. I headed for him while Martin lingered near the nurse’s station where he could keep an eye on me.

  “It’s about damn time,” Special Agent Eddie Lucca said. He looked me up and down. “I figured you wanted to make yourself presentable. Guess I was wrong.”

  “Did you come all this way just to bust my chops? What’s going on, Lucca?”

  “I came to see how Jablonsky is. You never called me back.” Lucca glanced into the room I just left. “I’m not on the approved list yet, so how is he?”

  “Stable, but it’s serious.”

  Lucca nodded. “I heard what happened to Cooper.”

  “Yeah.”

  He watched my expression. “I take it you were there.”

  “Just for the aftermath. Steele called me from Cooper’s phone, but we were too late. Again.” I took an unsteady breath. “He’s fucking with me. I just have no clue how he’s doing it.”