Smoke Screen (The Darcy Lynch Series Book 2)

by Elin Barnes

  “I know. And I appreciate that. A lot. But you need to stop disinfecting your hands, and help me close this case.”

  Sorensen got out of his chair and left the bullpen. He wanted to hit Lynch. Go at it until the man had pulp for a face. Instead, he went up to the vending machine, which was almost empty. He hit D5 and got the last Red Bull.

  “How many guys do you think are in this?” Lynch asked as soon as he walked through the door.

  Silence.

  Sorensen sat back down and pecked at the keyboard. He saw Lynch walk toward his desk and stand on the other side, until he looked up.

  “Four went into the bank. Possibly one more sitting in the getaway car,” Sorensen finally said.

  Darcy looked at the boards. “Samuel Barr died after running over Saffron and crashing his car into the bank. Curtis Gutierrez died in Carmel.”

  Sorensen leaned over the table and grabbed the Purell bottle. He got a good pump out and rubbed his hands.

  “Rory Bishop and Ethan Mitchell are still out there. Maybe one more . . . The brains?” Darcy continued.

  “I think the brains were at the scene,” Sorensen said.

  “Risking getting caught?”

  “These guys are military. They’re in the middle of the action. They make the action. I don’t think you get somebody to orchestrate this from the safety of their own home.”

  “What about Blake Higgins?” Darcy chewed on his pen. “I don’t think he was the driver, or that he’s the brains. But I think he started the whole thing.”

  “We need a subpoena for his bank records,” Sorensen said.

  “I think he’s smart enough to not leave a trail that easy to follow.”

  “Or,” Sorensen added, “he may have thought that his little plan was going to work much better than it did, and he wouldn’t have to worry about covering his tracks.”

  Darcy got up and faced the boards again. Pointing to the bank kidnapping, he said, “Okay, I buy that. He hires a group of goons to kidnap Suresh Malik, the patent controller, to make the case go away. Malik dies before he can make the changes, so now he either needs to let it be and face the consequences of the lawsuit, possibly losing the buy offer and maybe even the company, or he needs a plan B.”

  “So he lets the goons into the party somehow, and they kidnap the big boss of the lawsuit and kill all the witnesses except Saffron’s sister. Why?”

  “She’s involved?” Darcy’s voice quaked at the end of the question.

  “How’s Saffron? Can we ask her?” Sorensen asked.

  A dark shadow covered Lynch’s face. “I’ve bartered a year’s supply of Starbucks with the head nurse in exchange for hourly updates.” He checked his phone. “She’s still sedated.”

  “You should be with her,” Sorensen said, looking at Darcy for the first time since they’d got back to the station after Carmel.

  “I need to find out who did this to her,” he said.

  Sorensen didn’t push.

  “Okay, so let’s say her sister’s involved. We need to go through her records, see if there’s anything funky going on.”

  Sorensen finished his drink and started typing on his computer to put together the paperwork to get the legal order.

  “If she’s not involved, she’s either dead or in a really bad place,” Lynch said.

  “Let’s find out one way or another.”

  Less than an hour later they had the subpoena, and Jon had already done a preliminary assessment. On the speakerphone, he said, “I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. She has considerable amounts of cash coming in, but that seems to be consistent more with call girl–type work than anything else.”

  Sorensen looked at Lynch. “And you would know that how?” he asked, wishing the intern was there and he could see him blush.

  “Well, yeah, I mean, based on, you know, what—”

  “We got it. Just giving you a hard time, kid,” Sorensen said.

  “Is there anything at all that seems out of the ordinary?” Lynch asked.

  “Not that I can see, but I’ll keep looking.”

  “No. It’s better that you focus back on Blake Higgins. Anything new there?”

  “Not on him, but I just saw a tweet that the acquisition is going forward, and they expect to close the deal by tomorrow.”

  “I wonder if they’re trying to rush this through, given the circumstances. I thought Blake had told us the merger was happening in a few days, and that it was secret,” Sorensen said.

  “So the whole issue about the patent infringement lawsuit never came to light?” Darcy asked.

  “Not that I’ve been able to find,” Jon said.

  “Should we . . . maybe place an anonymous call to the buyers?” Sorensen asked with a smirk on his face.

  “Can I do it?” Jon asked.

  “Whoa, getting shot has changed you.” Sorensen looked at Darcy, surprised.

  “Even if it doesn’t make them reconsider the buy, at least they may delay it a few days,” Jon pushed.

  “No. We shouldn’t. It would affect many people who have nothing to do with Higgins’s criminal activities,” Sorensen said, thinking about Mohinder Mishra, the man who tried contacting Blake when Sorensen went to NanoQ after hours.

  “We just need to get Higgins arrested for multiple homicides,” Lynch said.

  “But we have no solid evidence.”

  “We have enough for that search warrant we talked about yesterday,” Lynch insisted.

  Sorensen checked his watch. “Okay, let’s go bother the judge again, but if this is the last favor he does for me, you’re going to owe me big.”

  Chapter 81

  Lynch, Sorensen, and four uniforms walked into NanoQ’s reception area and showed the warrant to the receptionist, who immediately made a call.

  A few seconds later a young man appeared and said, “I’m Martin Dunn, the CEO. How can I help you?”

  The man’s face was reddish with acne, and he probably had to stretch to reach five foot eight. His hair was in desperate need of a haircut, and the black T-shirt with the logo of the company was too tight around his waist.

  Sorensen pulled the paperwork from his pocket and handed it to Dunn. “We have a warrant to search and seize the specified items from Blake Higgins’s office, or anywhere else where he may have them.”

  The CEO opened the order and scanned it. Then said, “Please wait here while I call our lawyer.”

  Darcy started walking toward the glass doors that separated the reception area from the actual offices and said, “Mr. Dunn, we don’t have to wait. The order is legit, and we’re going to start the work. You can meet us when your lawyer arrives.”

  The door remained locked. Darcy turned and looked at the two receptionists, who were staring back, their eyes as big as plates.

  “If you don’t open this door immediately, I will arrest you both for obstruction,” Sorensen said.

  The petite one with the blond hair pushed something, and a buzz indicated that the door was now open.

  Once they were inside, Darcy said, “You like saying that, don’t you?”

  “What?” Sorensen teased.

  “Have you ever followed up on the threat?”

  “Once.”

  “How did it go?”

  “I cuffed her and walked toward the exit. Before I got there, her tone changed, and I’ve never had a more cooperative receptionist in my life.”

  Darcy smiled. He wasn’t sure Sorensen was telling the truth, but it was a good story.

  Once they got to Higgins’s office, they started going through his things. The laptop was gone. He didn’t have anything in the first drawer besides a toothbrush and a nearly-empty toothpaste tube. The middle one was empty.

  “Look at that. I thought I was the only one who did this,” Darcy said, pointing at the bottom drawer. Higgins had a couple new shirts tucked in there.

  “Oh dear.”

  “What? I’m serious. I’ve never known of anybody else who did that
.”

  “I thought your thing with Saffron was going well . . .”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “The only douche bags I know who need clean shirts in their drawers are assholes like Higgins who hope to get laid at a moment’s notice. I figured you and Saffron were serious and you didn’t need clean shirts to hit the town.” Before Darcy could protest, Sorensen changed the subject. “I’ve never had a search and seizure be this short. This guy has nothing in his office.”

  At that moment Martin Dunn appeared with another man—a little older than him, but not by much.

  “This is our general counsel, Jae Cho.”

  Both detectives shook his hand.

  “What exactly are you looking for?” Mr. Cho asked.

  “Everything is detailed in the paperwork,” Sorensen said.

  “I saw that. I guess the question I’m really asking is, why are you looking at Higgins? What do you think he’s done?”

  “We’re investigating him in connection to a multiple homicide.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous,” Dunn protested.

  The attorney looked at him, and Dunn stopped talking. At the end of the day, both Martin Dunn and Jae Cho probably cared a lot more about NanoQ than about Blake Higgins.

  Darcy did a 360, hoping to find something he’d previously missed. But there was nothing. He wondered if Higgins was just a minimalist, or he simply didn’t like stuff.

  On the way out to the parking lot, Darcy said, “Now we have to go to his house. I hope nobody warned him.”

  “I sent a couple uniforms to watch his place. If he leaves, they’ll call me.”

  They sent what little evidence they had back to the station with one of the officers and jumped back into Sorensen’s car.

  Before starting the engine, Sorensen checked his phone to retrieve the address. “I guess we’re going back to San Jose.”

  “Since we are already babysitting him, I think we need to do a little detour before,” Darcy said.

  “Where?”

  “Ethan Mitchell lives in Mountain View.”

  Chapter 82

  Blake was pacing the living room in PJ bottoms and the white T-shirt he’d been wearing the day before, even though it was late afternoon. He hadn’t slept all night. He had tried. The double dose of sleeping pills didn’t do anything, and he’d been scared of taking more. He didn’t want to commit suicide inadvertently.

  He rubbed his chin. Day-old stubble shaded his face. He walked to the fridge and took out the nearly empty gallon of apple juice. Straight from the jug he finished it, and left the container on the counter.

  When Sally called him from the front desk to tell him that the police were there to take his stuff, he panicked. He didn’t know what to do or whom to turn to. He almost called his dad, but the “I told you so” was almost worse than facing fate by himself.

  Before he left the kitchen, the thumb drive still inserted in his Mac caught his eye. He felt sick to his stomach and puked the juice into the kitchen sink. On the way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he looked out the window and saw the patrol car parked outside. There was no way out. He needed to figure out if he was going to fight this or turn himself in.

  Blake decided to get cleaned up. The hot water always helped him think. He scrubbed his body hard until it was raw. But it didn’t make him feel cleaner. He hadn’t killed that man, but everybody would think he had. He had no way to prove he hadn’t, and his word probably wouldn’t carry much weight.

  After he was dry, he called his dad. Reticence aside, Blake was smart enough to know that his father was the only one who cared enough about him to help him.

  Chapter 83

  Ethan lived in one of the few sky rises in Mountain View. The building was new, lavish, had tiny balconies and tall windows that reflected the valley outside. Sorensen parked in the only visitor spot that was open and walked inside with Lynch.

  “Good morning, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” the security guard asked.

  The detectives identified themselves, showing their badges.

  “We don’t see police come here very often,” he said, shaking their hands, and added, “Jamal Johnson at your service.”

  “Ethan Mitchell—what can you tell us about him?” Sorensen asked.

  The man leaned against the front desk and looked away. His elbow rested on the shiny surface and slid a couple inches before he pulled himself upright again.

  Sorensen looked at Lynch but didn’t say anything. This can be good or bad, he thought.

  After another moment the security guard shifted his weight and shoved both hands in his pockets. “I don’t like talking smack about my tenants, you know. It starts that way, and then you become the fountain of gossip.”

  Sorensen didn’t really care about this guy’s moral code toward his residents, but before he could tell him that, Jamal continued.

  “But yeah, I understand this is different.” The guard’s eyes focused on the holstered gun on Lynch’s waist.

  “Yes, it is. Tell us about Mitchell,” Sorensen asked, and saw his partner cringe a little. Lynch always wanted things to follow an organic pace, and sometimes you didn’t have all the frigging time in the world to let that happen, so he nudged things along.

  After another pause, the security guard went on: “He’s a real piece of work.”

  “What do you mean?” Lynch asked.

  “He’s one of those guys who thinks the world should be grateful because he walks in it, you know?”

  “No, I really don’t know.” Sorensen brushed his blond curls away from his forehead and leaned against the front desk just a few inches from where the guard had just been.

  “He’s always asking me to pick up things for him, or sends me on stupid errands. Like I work for the guy or something.”

  Sorensen nodded for him to go on.

  “Like the other day—Tuesday I think it was—he comes from the garage and tells me that he has a box he needs help carrying up. I bring down the dolly, and when I get to his car I see the box is frigging huge and weighs like three dead bodies or something.”

  Sorensen looked at Lynch, who met his eyes, a little sparkle in them for the first time in days.

  “How late was this?”

  “It was late. Probably close to midnight.”

  “What was in it?” Lynch asked.

  “I don’t know. But the point is that he’s standing there and didn’t even help me take the box out of the truck. I think I even twisted something, because it still hurts.” He started massaging his lower back.

  “And you have no idea what was in it?” Sorensen pushed.

  “No. I asked him jokingly if he had rocks in it, but he just waved me to keep moving. Then, when we finally reached his place, he gave me a hundred dollars. So the guy’s generous— he’s always giving money away—but he’s just a real dick about it.”

  “Anything else kind of weird or different happening in the last couple days?” Sorensen asked.

  The massive man thought about it for another few moments. “No, not really. He brought a woman up the same night, but she was pretty messed up. He likes the ladies.”

  “What do you mean ‘messed up’?” Lynch asked while he pulled a photo of Aislin. “Is this the woman?”

  He shoved the picture so close to him that Jamal almost crossed his eyes.

  “I couldn’t tell. Her hair covered her face. It could have been, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Did you see her leaving?”

  “No, but I didn’t work Wednesday and Thursday. Today is my first day back since then.”

  “We’ll need the names and contact info of all of the other security guards who work here.”

  “Of course,” he said, walking around the desk. He started writing the information down on a piece of paper. When he was done, he handed it to Sorensen.

  “Is Mitchell here now?” Lynch asked.

  “Yeah, actually I just saw him going up after his run.”
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  “Number 2306, right?” Lynch asked.

  “Yep. The nicest two-bedroom condo in the entire building.”

  “Oh yeah? Why is that?” Sorensen asked, already halfway to the elevator.

  “The top floor has a totally different layout than the rest of the building. His is very spacey and has a great view of what used to be Moffett Field. I bet he saw a few shuttles land back in the day.”

  As the elevator doors opened, Sorensen said, “They never landed shuttles at Moffett. Maybe a blimp or two.”

  Chapter 84

  The security guard promised them he wouldn’t announce their arrival. When they reached the twenty-third floor, the doors opened to a hallway splitting to the left and to the right. They took a left.

  “How do you think this guy can afford this on a Marine’s salary?” Sorensen asked.

  “Lottery?” Lynch joked.

  “You think?” Sorensen matched Lynch’s sarcastic tone.

  Sorensen pressed the doorbell. Asian chimes echoed through the quiet hallway. “How manly,” he said right before the door opened.

  “I don’t normally get unannounced visitors,” Mitchell said. “Please come in.” He was wearing only boxer shorts. Mitchell’s body probably had less than 3 percent body fat, and he was hairless.

  Sorensen tucked his loose shirt and sucked in his stomach. When he realized what he was doing, he hated himself a little. He wondered how this guy had time to work out with the many clandestine activities he had going on. Without being invited to do so, he carried his bulk across the room and sat down on the black leather sofa.

  “Can I get you a beer? I only have Redhook.”

  “We heard you brought in a hefty package the other night,” Sorensen said, ignoring the offer.

  “I didn’t know that was illegal.”

  “What was it?” he pressed.

  “None of your business, Detective. I hope you didn’t come all the way to ask me about my deliveries. So, either get to the point, or I’ll have to ask you to leave, as I have a very busy evening.”

  “How do you afford a place like this with a Marine’s salary?” Lynch asked. He didn’t sit. Instead, he kept moving about the living room and open kitchen.