Jae's Assignment

by Bernice Layton

She also guessed that Iverson and McGuire had been busy confiscating the key to her Mustang while she and Darius talked out on the patio. Damn!

  Jae did have access to another car and the key to that car was dangling on her key ring. A wicked grin curled the corners of her lips as she ran to Darius’s car.

  Easing out of the garage unnoticed, Jae grinned at her good fortune for keeping Darius’s car key on her key ring. Besides, who would expect that she would be driving a different vehicle? She drove directly to Grainger’s house, where she hoped to find Trevor snooping.

  Less than an hour later, she parked down the street from Grainger’s house. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. After watching the property for a while, she was satisfied that no one was at home and decided to go in for a closer look.

  Pulling up to the parking pad behind the house, she exited the car and searched the grounds leading up to the patio doors. Finding the door locked, she reached into her bag and pulled out a leather pouch of various small tools.

  Selecting the one she needed, Jae proceeded to pick the lock, fully aware that what she was doing was illegal. If she were caught, she’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

  Within seconds of entering the house she pulled out her service weapon and Iverson’s cell phone. Using the camera feature, Jae snapped pictures of anything that stood out as she crept through the house. Nothing looked out of place since her last visit there a couple of months ago.

  After thoroughly searching most of the rooms, she entered Grainger’s home office located in the front of the house on the first floor.

  She was shocked to see file folders haphazardly stacked in desk trays, which struck her as odd. Grainger would never leave folders or any other types of documents out in the open. Picking up the folders and leafing through their contents, she was relieved that they were mostly upcoming training schedules, but nothing classified. She snapped photos of the files anyway.

  Leaving the office, she walked quietly in the direction of the kitchen. Her eyes were drawn to the plush carpet and the numerous boot impressions throughout. On closer examination, she saw they were similar to the boots Trevor had been wearing. He’d left those same boot prints throughout her apartment.

  He’d been there and gone already. What she didn’t know was how he managed it with only a thirty-minute lead, and to her knowledge he wasn’t driving.

  In the kitchen, she put her weapon away and walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, and searched for a bottle of water. Finding one, she twisted off the cap and took a big gulp as she walked to the back door. Suddenly, she did a double take, almost choking on the water. Slamming the bottle down onto the counter, Jae hurried back to the refrigerator and pulled the door open wide. Her eyes scanned the food, lots of food.

  She remembered Grainger always complaining about having to throw out spoiled food when he’d returned from special OPs that sometimes lasted a couple of weeks at a time. She picked up packs of freshly sliced deli meats and cheeses. They were all dated two days before he’d called her in Virginia to extract Trevor from that hotel.

  After taking pictures of the refrigerator’s contents, she searched through the kitchen drawers for possible receipts.

  After several minutes of checking through the numerous cabinets and drawers, Jae found a drawer full of receipts and plucked two from the top of the pile.

  Frowning, she thought it odd for a single man to have spent $175.17 at the market. Taking a picture of the receipt, she picked up her water bottle and left, securely relocking the door behind her. She didn’t worry about leaving fingerprints. She and the guys had been to Grainger’s house many times for impromptu cookouts, watching games, or talking strategy about cases.

  She didn’t know if anything she had seen was a clue to Grainger’s whereabouts, but it was downright weird that he’d gone grocery shopping knowing he had an upcoming Special OP training. Looking out onto the patio, Jae contemplated if she should go back and throw the spoiled food out, particularly the deli meats and the milk, but changed her mind. That would be tampering with possible criminal evidence.

  Then something else drew her attention. The garage door was slightly ajar. Pivoting in a slow circle with her weapon snug against her body, Jae walked warily to the garage and eased the garage door open, watching and listening carefully. Once inside, she lifted her weapon defensively and kept low to the wall as she gave her eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness.

  The 1972 Mustang Grainger had been restoring was in its usual space right in the middle of the garage. The hood was raised and tools were scattered about the floor and on the two ten-foot-long workbenches. What surprised her was finding dried blood droplets on the floor near one of the workbenches.

  Satisfied that the garage was empty, she started looking around. The drop patterns of blood suggested that if Grainger had cut himself he probably wasn’t standing.

  Dropping down on one knee to get a better look, she believed it could have been from that same position and height that the blood pooled. Her eyes followed the dried blood trail until it stopped. To her mind, that was way too much blood for a simple cut, though not enough to be life threatening.

  The blood flow appeared to have been stanched, perhaps by tightly wrapping the wound right where she knelt. Pulling out the cell phone again, she snapped pictures of the blood pattern and extra set of boot prints.

  Only when she stood did Jae consider checking the trunk of the Mustang. She reasoned it was too small to hold a body—a whole body that is. Not seeing the keys, Jae picked up a screwdriver from the floor. Tension and adrenaline heightened and she could feel her heart racing, trying to prepare herself for whatever she might see, although she didn’t expect to find a body since she couldn’t smell one. She jammed the screwdriver into the trunk’s keyhole, gave it a hard twist, and yanked on it until it popped. Standing back, she drew her weapon up and kicked the trunk door up.

  Relief flooded through her when she stared down into an empty trunk. Searching inside the trunk she did find a book on the history of the Mustang that had been wedged down on the side. She would have missed it had she not moved an old toolbox aside. Absently, she guessed when Darius eventually caught up with her at least she’d have something to read in lockup then dropped the book into her bag and hurried to her borrowed getaway car.

  Back in the Lexus, Jae turned the air conditioning on. She felt bad about breaking into Grainger’s house and popping the trunk on the vintage Mustang. She hoped he would understand. Driving away, she thought as soon as she saw Grainger she would apologize for that then strongly suggest he invest in an alarm system.

  * * * * *

  All he knew for sure was that he was in some type of hospital.

  The faint antiseptic smell was a dead giveaway. He just didn’t know why he was there. Surely not for the throbbing pain to his lip and jaw. He’d had hundreds of fat lips before. But then he wondered who’d hit him. And just like that a memory flashed in his head. He saw a fist swing and connect before he could dodge it, and with that came the metallic taste of blood.

  He was, however, aware of footsteps and low male voices, or was it his imagination? Yeah, I’m hallucinating. That had to be it, he thought somewhat disjointedly.

  Just then, Luke Grainger felt the pinching stab of a needle prick his arm. Which arm, he couldn’t say. He just knew it hurt and then he felt himself floating up from a bed, chair, or floor?

  He tried to understand the voices around him. He knew they would ask him questions again. Many questions, hundreds of questions, possibly thousands of them.

  What questions?

  Luke just couldn’t say. He only hoped he hadn’t said too much since he was sure he’d been drugged.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What the?” Darius Hall stuttered in disbelief. “Son of a bitch. Somebody stole my goddamned brand new car!”

  Slamming the telephon
e headset down onto the base, Darius dared anyone to say anything at all to him, least of all Randy Cross, who was approaching his desk with a file dangling from his hand.

  Randy stopped in front of Darius’s desk. “That’s one sweet-looking ride, Darius. So when are you going to start driving that baby?” Randy smiled.

  “You need something, Randy?” Darius murmured.

  “Oh, right. You asked me to run a check on some calls Jae logged onto her phone for a case,” he said, tapping the file in his hand. “Nothing’s there and my guess would be that she hasn’t used it. I need your okay to check her personal cell phone or home phone. It wouldn’t be the first time Jae logged agency business on her personal phone, you know.” Randy’s eyes circled the room. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing much,” Darius said.

  “Jae out in the field?” Randy asked, watching Darius grip the base of the telephone as he let out another expletive. “Jeez.”

  Iverson got up from his desk and held out his hand to Randy for the file.

  “Look, guys, my plate is empty as you know, so if I can help out on something just say the word, especially if Jae’s taking another vacation.”

  “Jae’s doing some legwork on an assignment with the DEA,” Darius said gruffly, then added, “Thanks for the info, Randy.”

  Randy left with a head nod.

  Darius recalled that earlier, after several attempts to find Jae had left them stumped, he’d ordered everyone back to meet him at her apartment.

  Pulling Mike and Amil up from their posts down on the ground, Darius made one thing clear. They were not to talk about the issue of Jae or Grant.

  When they’d left her apartment and gone to the garage, no one was surprised to see her Mustang gone, but they were shocked when they discovered Darius’s car was gone as well.

  The howling cry that bellowed up from Darius filled the cement layers of the garage and had Iverson, Amil, McGuire, and Mike running back to Jae’s apartment.

  They spent two hours in her apartment discussing what could be happening and each one came up with the same conclusion. If Grainger was Grant’s contact, maybe both Jae and Grant had gone to Grainger’s to investigate.

  They also recalled that she’d been shot during a solo assignment. Now, she was out there again without backup so they were genuinely concerned for her safety.

  Both McGuire and Amil definitely suspected a mole, someone who was particularly interested in Grainger and Grant. They agreed from that point on not to discuss anything in the office if there was a mole in their camp.

  Darius now wished he hadn’t asked Randy to pull Jae’s smart phone records for the previous month. When he asked for that information, he’d only wanted to see if she’d been in contact with Grant.

  Darius had Mike call the regional car theft force again. Darius had already reported the car stolen and couldn’t understand why the GPS hadn’t located it yet. He was kicking himself for not getting the OnStar turned on when he’d bought the car.

  “I’m going to lunch,” Darius said glumly and walked out of the office.

  * * * * *

  Pulling the hood up further onto her head, Jae walked over to the coffee station located on the ground level of the motel she’d checked into three days earlier.

  Frowning at the continental breakfast selection, she went right to the coffee urn and poured herself a cup of coffee.

  Since leaving Grainger’s house, she’d been searching for both Trevor and Grainger. She’d shown their photos around and had zero results.

  On the second evening she decided to stake out Grainger’s house on the chance that Trevor would stop by. She was surprised to see two familiar sedans parked out front, but was glad to see Iverson dragging two large trash cans to the end of the curb for trash pickup. If she had guessed correctly, they had emptied the refrigerator of the spoiled food.

  Parking the Lexus a block away, Jae sprinted through a neighboring yard. Training her binoculars on the back of the house she spotted Mike and Darius searching Grainger’s bedroom. Jae didn’t miss the sour expression on Darius’s face and couldn’t hold back a chuckle. She was positive he was freaking out about his missing car.

  Serves him right for buying an expensive car like that behind Sheila’s back.

  Returning to her motel room a short while later after the stakeout of Grainger’s house, Jae pulled Grainger’s book on the history of the Mustang from her bag. She planned to stay put until midafternoon. Running a hand across the book, Jae guessed it was the original manual for the Mustang Grainger was restoring.

  Opening the book, she was glad to find it in such excellent condition since it had obviously been in a trunk for a long time. Bringing it up to her nose, she noticed that it didn’t smell old or like the trunk of the car.

  Flipping through several pages, she spotted a piece of paper sticking out from the bottom of the book. She flipped it open to that page.

  Her eyes went wide.

  “Oh, my God,” she croaked.

  Jae stared down into the blue eyes of Trevor Grant sans beard, mustache, and the long hippie hair. It was him, yet it wasn’t. There were two other photos. One she would guess was at a family gathering of some type, the other was a photo ID card.

  There were also two documents behind the photo that sent Jae scrambling to gather her things. Within twenty minutes, she’d checked out of the motel and was back in the Lexus parked behind the motel.

  As the air conditioning cooled the car, Jae read the official witness protection program authorization form that contained Grainger’s original signature as well as what she believed to be Trevor Grant’s real name. Opening her bag, Jae dug deep to find the note Trevor had left on her nightstand before he slipped away. She compared the letters of the other signature on the document, that of Adian Cole to the one on the note. They matched perfectly.

  “Well, hello, Dr. Adian Cole,” she said softly.

  There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Adian Cole had had plastic surgery after he returned to the US. That was confirmed when she found discharge papers from a private hospital located in Connecticut. He’d stayed there for eight weeks before joining the staff of the Kincaid Institute where a Dr. Trevor Grant, researcher/analyst, suddenly emerged.

  To go to such extremes, suggested to Jae that Grainger didn’t want Adian Cole to be found…ever. And if he was, the plastic surgery would make positive identification all the more difficult. “So why hide this stuff in a car?” But she’d already guessed the answer. No one would look there and if they had, no one would bother searching the pages of a book on an old Mustang. She certainly hadn’t before and she and the guys had been in Grainger’s garage many times as he proudly showed them new things he’d done to the car.

  After a more thorough search of the pages, she found two more documents, both taped to the underside of the back cover. She’d had to carefully lift the appendix page, which had been carefully glued over the back cover.

  One document was Adian Cole’s passport and the other was his medical degree as a physician at Johns Hopkins Hospital. “Well, well, well, Dr. Cole. I’m impressed. No wonder I couldn’t find you there,” she said, picking up the borrowed smart phone and tapping several keys to connect to the web browser.

  “Grainger went through a lot to hide your identity and now I have to wonder what you did to make sure it stayed that way.”

  * * * * *

  Trevor was home again in Rockville, Maryland. He could see them just twenty feet away from his perch on a stone bench. He thought if he strained his ears he might hear their voices, voices he’d longed to hear for so long.

  Trevor watched his younger sisters, Robin and Lynette, walking arm in arm to their mother’s gravesite. If he’d stayed at that same spot five minutes longer, they would have discovered him kneeling and sticking a flag into the dirt of the gravesite of their brother, G
reer, buried beside her. He had also dug into the soft earth and planted the gift he’d purchased several months earlier. It was a paperweight containing a sailboat inside with blue and white sails. Unless someone tampered with the gravesite, he knew it would be buried with Greer forever.

  Earlier, he’d visited his mother’s grave and placed a bundle of tiny white flowers there. He recalled how much she liked them. Sadly, without any photos of her he was beginning to forget what she looked like, but that changed when he spotted his sister, Robin. In the five years since he’d seen her, she’d developed their mother’s classic Texas features as his mother used to say—blue eyes and thick chestnut brown hair. He cursed the heart disease that took his mother away, just as much as he hated the war and subsequent explosion that took his younger brother, Greer, from him not long after.

  Trevor wondered if he had ever taken his family for granted. Had he focused so much on his studies and career that he had forgotten to really pay attention to them? Tell them how much they meant to him? Had he loved them enough? Surely, he had. He could remember his mother liking those tiny white flowers. Baby’s breath, that’s what she called them. It made him smile at the memory.

  Trevor slipped inside the chapel and closed his eyes. He wasn’t praying. He was just tired, tired of feeling lost and alone. When the sting of tears pinched his eyes, he closed them. A door to his left open and he prayed that the priest wouldn’t come over.

  Several sets of footsteps nearing the pew where he sat, heightened, his anxiety level and Trevor glanced up as they passed by. To his shock, he caught the profiles of his father and stepmother, followed by his sisters, Robin and Lynette.

  He could smell his sisters’ perfume.

  He sat at the entrance where the Aspersorium was located. As they passed, he gripped the padded seat beneath him to stop himself from rushing after them, which would have frightened them out of their minds. In any case, they wouldn’t have recognized him, not with his new face. This face now belonged to Trevor Grant.

  He watched his father, Maurice, and his stepmother, Madeline, hold hands as they lit a candle. Smiling, Trevor recalled they had only been married two years when he “died”. He remembered Madeline had come into their grief-filled lives at just the right time and they all fell in love with her. She was beautiful, sassy, smart, charming, and could beat both him and his father at poker and Scrabble.