Red on the Run (The Syndicate-Born Trilogy Book 1)
Page 15
He tried to not think about how he was going to commit murder—again.
***
Interstate 70
Just outside Indianapolis
June 7, 2008
7:00 PM
~~~
They had been driving for hours.
The white lines of the highway entranced Jason, and he wished life were like a highway—with signs to guide him along the way. He no longer held stock in his own ability to discern the right path. He gripped the wheel with such ferocity that his hands began to throb in protest. He looked down at his white-knuckled grip—the hands that had played a role in un-ghosting the woman beside him—but refused to unclench them from the wheel.
She sat so still beside him that he began to wonder if she were there, or if her vessel was all that remained of her.
Eight hours into their drive, they pulled into the small town of Travis, just outside of Chicago. Brian’s home wasn’t too much farther. He fished for the restaurant napkin on which he had written down the directions, and had to squint in the half-light of the street lamps to read his chicken scratch handwriting, all while weaving down small, quiet neighborhood streets. He was lucky he hadn’t been pulled over yet.
As he turned the corner onto a cul-de-sac, he spotted a house with the right address number on both the house and the curb in front.
Thank God.
Too exhausted even to get out of the car, he used all of his leftover energy to put the car in park, turn off the ignition, and collapse back against his seat.
Katherine sat unmoving beside him... until she saw what he saw.
A shadowy figure outside the front door stepped out of the dark and into the path of the security lights.
Alex.
Chapter 11
Brian Williams’ Estate
Hinsdale, Illinois
June 7, 2008
9:00 PM
~~~
Alex’s anxiety rose with each passing hour, and as those hours of waiting turned into minutes, he smoked his last remaining cigarettes. A trusted courier had hand-delivered the first batch of FBI documents earlier that day. Somewhere inside the files might lay the key information necessary to indict A.D. Fullmore. He had been pouring over them all afternoon and evening, a painstaking process made more challenging by his distracted mind.
Instead of paying attention to the work, he kept thinking of her.
The sound of the rental car pulling into the drive made him jump. He and Brian walked outside to meet them in the driveway, and his whole body hummed with electricity, shooting all along his spine as synapses fired at imperceptible rates.
Fuck, I need to calm down!
His feet, oblivious to his inner turmoil, propelled him forward out the front door and down the long driveway.
When he saw her, he froze—a statue in mid-step under the security lights on the front lawn. His stomach flip-flopped at the sight of her face and neck, which were covered in garish bruises and cuts. The sickening yellow of the interior domed light in the car made her features look twisted and pinched.
“Oh God.”
Beside him, Brian also stopped in his tracks. “What?” Then he, too, saw for himself what was at stake. “Oh shit.”
Alex licked his lips in determination and continued walking to her. His vision became myopic with her in his sights, their gaze locked together.
She stepped out of the car and broke into a run towards him, and they collided in an almost painful embrace. She wrapped her overly thin arms around him and clung to him with a desperation that either threatened to snap them in two or forge them into one new whole being.
It was a small comfort knowing that, at last, he could now keep her safe—even if for just the moment.
Her tears erupted in choking gasps, and he held her up as her legs gave out. Her heart made time with his, and her tears dampened his neck. They had known each other a short time, but something had happened in those scant few weeks that inexplicably bound them together—a force of nature.
So lost in her, he barely noticed Jason and Brian walk into the house.
Alone. At long last.
Out of need, he sought out her mouth and kissed her the way he had been wanting to since the moment they said goodbye.
She met his kiss with an ardent one of her own.
All of his senses took her in: taste, sound, touch and smell. I need to see her—really look at her.
He pulled back slightly and took in the sight of the woman before him. She was not the same person he had left behind in Florida; the light in her eyes had gone out.
He could feel her growing self-conscious under his inquisitive eye, and a violent shiver rippled through her as she pulled herself out of his insistent grasp.
Every fiber in his being buzzed with longing, but he had to give her space to heal. The new meds—coupled with his determination to rise above his addition—suppressed his instinctual urges. The night before, he’d asked Doc how he should proceed with Katherine so that he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt her with his ignorance and ineptitude. She had said to take it slow and let her take the lead. So....
He took the small duffel she clutched in her hand, and led her inside.
“Brian’s wife put together a room upstairs for you. Do you want me to show you? Are you tired?” He set the bag down in the foyer before closing the door behind them.
She shook her head and avoided his gaze.
He led her with a slight touch on the small of her back into the living room just as Brian came around the corner.
“Well,” Brian said, “I got Jason all settled into one of my boy’s old rooms. I have Frank’s room all fixed up for you, Katherine. Do you want to turn in or maybe like some tea?”
“Tea would be nice.” She sat down on one of the plush sofas in the living room. Her flat affect worried him.
The room was sparse but expensively furnished. Brian disappeared into the kitchen to make the tea, leaving them alone again.
Alex leaned against the mantle on the other side of the room. Now that he had seen with his own eyes the evidence of what had happened to her, he felt rudderless. He patted his jacket pocket and was dismayed to remember that he had smoked the last cigarette just minutes before. Without a cigarette, he didn’t know what to do with his nervous hands, so he crossed his arms in front of him and stared down at his shoes.
For once in his life he found himself speechless. What do you say to the woman you think you’re in love with after she’s been brutally beaten and raped? He shivered.
She watched him with a stillness that unsettled him even further. The look she gave him made him think that she too was at a loss for words. They stayed there in silence with their naked thoughts dancing around in their heads.
Brian broke the awkward silence when he walked back into the living room with a tray of hot tea mugs in hand.
Alex shot him a helpless look, silently begging him to stay and help explain the situation.
Brian cleared his throat. “Katherine, as you know I’m a blunt man, so I’m going to cut to the chase. Alex and I have been talking about how to keep you safe and end this whole thing as quickly as possible.”
Her grim expression greeted both men. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
Alex shuddered. She might be right.
***
Metro Station-Chinatown
Washington, D.C.
June 7, 2008
9:00 PM
~~~
“Barry, can you get the press to back up?” The lead D.C. homicide investigator, Sergeant Frank McFadden, tapped his uniformed police officer on the arm.
“They’re vultures. Fucking can’t give the poor girl a little respect.” Barry hitched up his uniform pants over his bulbous gut.
“Tom, did you get a statement from the witnesses?” McFadden surveyed the scene before him with a look of frustration. It was a total cluster fuck, as usual.
“Yeah,” the junior detective said. “They said some
guy in a gray hoodie pushed her in front of the train and took off for the street. It all happened so fast, by the time people realized what had happened the perp was already long gone. The descriptions of the subject are all over the place. All we know is it was a male in a gray hoodie and black jeans.”
“Great! This case isn’t going to leave the board anytime soon.” McFadden heaved a great sigh and rested his hands on hips. “As shitty a description as it is, let’s get an APB out anyways. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Yeah, I have a better chance of winning the lotto, sir,” Tom replied under his breath.
“You have any better ideas?” McFadden barked.
“Fuck, no!”
“Do we have a name?” Sergeant McFadden nodded with his head over to the body.
Tom shrugged. “The credit card in her pocket said Sara Horton. We’ll have to confirm that, though.”
***
Brian Williams’ Estate
Hinsdale, Illinois
June 7, 2008
9:00 PM
~~~
Alex knelt down in front of Katherine. “You have to believe that I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She leaned away from him and gave him a pointed look. “I want to believe that you can help me, but I don’t. I don’t even know you.”
At her words, he stiffened and glanced over at his friend.
Brian stood up and cleared his throat. “I think I’m going to head up to bed and let the two of you talk this out.” He walked out without another word.
A thick awkwardness laced the air. Alex stood and rubbed the stubble on his chin and cheeks. “Katherine—”
“Don’t bullshit me. I know you aren’t who you say you are... that you’re keeping things from me. Charles showed me stuff his private investigator dug up. Who are you? Who are you, really?” Before he could answer her, she continued. “I can’t keep doing this anymore. For all I know you’re going to try and kill me,” she said all in one breath.
She slumped and slid back against the sofa, seemingly drained by her rant. “I don’t know who to trust. I just know that to get through this, I need to be able to trust someone again.”
He swallowed hard as her words sliced through him. If she only knew what was in his heart. If he could just touch her, let his hands and body speak the words he was failing to express. But that would only make things worse.
“It’s complicated, but I can assure you that I’m not going to kill you. I want to do everything in my power to keep you safe. I know you’re really confused right now and don’t know who you can trust, but I need you to know that you can trust me.” He bit his bottom lip to keep himself in check.
Her eyebrow cocked in disbelief.
It was going to take time and a lot of convincing to get her trust. He slowly moved closer to her with his hands in the air. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything. I might not have the answers, but I will be honest.”
A pregnant pause hung over them, making him even more anxious. He hated silence. In desperation, he began pacing back and forth as he again filled the air with his hurried words. “Okay, so you asked who I am. Well, as you might have already figured out, my name isn’t Alex Bailey. My real name is Alexander Martin Estrella.”
He paused for a second to let that sink in, and to muster up the courage to continue. It had been years since he had spoken his birth name, and he was dismayed that it now sounded so foreign on his tongue, but she needed to know what was on the line. “Katherine, you have to understand that it‘s against the law to tell you any of this, but I trust you, and I want you to feel like you can trust me.”
What he was going to say next was a felony and could put the mission in danger, but he needed to put all the cards on the table. He continued despite her angry scowl.
He dropped his voice so only she would hear. “I don’t technically work for the FBI.”
Katherine’s mouth fell open. “What?”
He raked his fingers through his hair as he tread on dangerous ground. “I’ve been working undercover inside the FBI to investigate any ties the government and the FBI might have with The Syndicate.”
Her mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
He held his breath as she shut her eyes for a moment. It was a lot to process—he knew that. When she looked back up at him, he let out the breath he’d been holding and continued to dig himself into an even deeper legal hole.
“I’ve worked in the field for the CIA for the last thirteen years, most of which I spent overseas. I’m good at my job, and before all this was up for a promotion as a Junior Supervisor, which at my age is a pretty big deal.” He was proud of his service to the country—one of the few things in his life he could stand by.
“I grew up near Howard University and lived in government housing for most of my life. My mom took off when I was three and I lived with my meth-head dad until he overdosed when I was seven. I became a ward of the state, in and out of foster homes until I aged out. I got a full ride to Howard, where I got my bachelor’s and master’s, and I’m fluent in three different languages. I’m a recovering sex addict. I drink a lot and smoke even more. I’ve never been in any kind of serious relationship, and.... I know this is going to sound crazy—I know that—but I think I might be falling in love with you.” As the words tumbled unbidden from his lips, the realization of what he had just said settled in.
Katherine gasped and her face reddened. “You don’t even know me. How can you say that you love me?”
He sighed and shoved his hands into his pants pockets, dropping his gaze back down to his shoes. He’d told her the truth, and part of him was glad to have laid it all out on the table—even if it was embarrassing. He knew she felt the same way; he just had to be patient and wait.
Until then, he needed her to know the whole of it. “Because of the intrusive nature of my work, I do know you. I know you better than anyone.”
He tried to choose his next words with care. “In a widespread effort to move the investigation along, the government put you and several others around you under surveillance. It was my part of my job these last two years to profile you. When you were cleared as a possible co-conspirator, it was deemed necessary to get to those around you by getting close to you.”
“Jesus,” she said under her breath, like a prayer.
Confessing exhausted him. He sat down across from her, fighting the urge to take her hand or to offer her any kind of physical comfort. “Katherine, the investigation of your father’s death never stopped. It’s what started this whole thing. He stumbled onto this group and was allegedly killed because of what he knew.”
Her gaze dropped down to her hands and a single tear splashed on her thumb. “Charles... how high up in the organization is he?”
He suspected she knew the answer to her own question, but still needed to hear it. “He’s one of the group’s mid-level operatives. They’ve been mostly using him to launder their money through his various businesses and holdings. He isn’t the one we’re most concerned with now, though. Your twin brother, Scott, is also a part of it. The most recent intel on him is that he appears to be a high-ranking member in the group, which has been financing his campaigns through a Super Pac called The Old Dominion Fighters.”
Her mouth opened in shock and disbelief, and her breathing became shallow.
Before either of them could continue further, Alex’s phone rang in his pocket.
She stared at him. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
He sighed in irritation. “I wasn’t going to.”
Katherine folded her arms across her chest. “Answer it.”
He fished out his phone and caught it right before the call went to voicemail. “Bailey.”
“Turn on the TV,” Supervisor Magellan said.
Great! This can’t be good.
He looked around, spotted a remote, grabbed it and turned on the news. The ticker at the bottom read that a woman had been pushe
d in front of an oncoming subway train.
“It’s Agent Horton. They took her out.” His boss sounded weary.
“Oh Jesus.” His hand went to his abdomen, where it felt as if he’d been stabbed. “Do we know who?”
“We don’t know for sure, but my guess is MacAvoy. We think she was going to turn him in to us in exchange for immunity. She was on her way to Langley when it happened.”
“Mmm hmm.... Thank you, sir.” He ran his hands through his hair and shifted back and forth on the heels of his feet. “Let me know if you hear anything else.”
He ended the call and sank back into the soft folds of the sofa. He could feel the hot sting of tears threatening to fall. His world was falling apart at his feet, and he was powerless to stop it.
***
In the bedroom directly over Alex and Katherine, Jason tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured them together. He could hear the mumbled sounds of their chatter downstairs, which his brain tried to piece together into understandable words and phrases.
Frustration and anxiety finally got the better of him, and he jumped out of bed and picked up his laptop. He turned on the computer and pulled up some of the notes he’d taken on The Syndicate case, even though he’d read them a dozen times already. When he finished skimming through them, he pulled up a blank document and began to write.
For the first time in too long, he was writing what he wanted to be writing, and it felt good. As a writer, the only way he could process this giant mess was to put it to paper. He tumbled down into the words and let them guide his fingers as they danced over the keyboard—telling the story they were meant to tell.
It was just the beginning.
Chapter 12
Nin’s Bar
Danville, Illinois
June 7, 2008
10:00 PM
~~~
Charles sipped his scotch in hopes it would calm his nerves. A slight tremor had developed in his hands, making it difficult for him to hold his glass. He needed to forget what he’d done. Four drinks in and he still saw her face every time he closed his eyes, and the sound of her screaming still rang in his ears. Deep down he knew that no one would ever classify him as being a good man, but he never in his wildest imagination would have thought he could become a murderer.