Malicious Pursuit

by KG MacGregor

  "I beg your pardon," the judge said indignantly. "Who are you, and who gave you the right to go wandering through my home?"

  "My name is Thomas Fennimore. I’m a Special Agent with the Internal Revenue Service. That warrant you’re holding was signed by a federal judge in Washington, DC, and it gives me the authority to search these premises for a JVC home entertainment system, delivered to this home by Drummond Appliances on October sixteenth of last year. According to their records, this system was never purchased and it was written off an as uncollectible debt. While you are certainly allowed to receive such a generous gift, Drummond Appliances is not allowed to deduct its value as a business loss, and is therefore in violation of the Federal Tax Code." Thomas observed with satisfaction the ghastly look on the judge’s face and he dropped the other shoe. "I’ll be returning for your statement once I’ve completed the other phases of my investigation. Of course, if you wished to be forthcoming about any unusual circumstances pertaining to how you came to acquire this gift, I would be most grateful to take that information and your cooperation under consideration as the Federal Government proceeds with this case. I assure you that all violations will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

  * * *

  "I’m really sorry about your car, Viv."

  The gray-haired woman waved her hand flippantly. "It’s just a car. Thank goodness you weren’t hurt."

  "Okay, the truck’s packed, puppies and all," Jerry announced. He’d loaded up their things as soon as Spencer had gotten home. The whole group was headed out to stay with friends of his cousin. The underground network was coming to life tonight to help, all because Viv had helped Jerry out when he needed the surgery.

  "Listen, Viv, when Jessie gets settled, I’m going to ask Jerry to borrow his truck so I can go find a phone. I need to call Elena again and see what’s happened." Spencer hoisted the tired little girl into the front seat.

  "You should take Jerry with you. He might be some help."

  "I don’t want to put him in danger, Viv. It’s bad enough that I’ve put all of you at risk. And now Ruth’s been caught…." The emotion overwhelmed her for a moment and her voice shook while her blue eyes filled with tears.

  "Don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay. I promised Ruth I’d take care of this child and if it takes my last ounce of strength, that’s what I’ll do."

  Spencer drew the older woman into a hug then helped her up into the truck beside Jessie and her doll. On the way to the next house, Spencer asked Jerry about borrowing his vehicle.

  "You don’t need to go find no phone. You can just use my cell phone."

  "It’s not that simple. They’ll trace the call back to you and then you’ll be part of all of this too."

  "I’m already part of it. Besides, they ain’t gonna trace my phone," he said cockily.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Mine don’t broadcast," he said with a grin.

  "How’d you manage that?"

  "It’s one of those old analog phones. I took it apart once to see how it worked and I had a couple of pieces left over when I put it back together. Ever since then, it don’t flash a caller ID, and if we drive around out in the boondocks, they won’t even be able to triangulate the signal."

  Spencer was skeptical, but Jerry was an electrician, which made him the closest thing to an expert they had. But there was a hell of lot at stake here. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive."

  * * *

  Cal Akers dumped another load of gravel from inside his folded jacket into the ditch beneath the rear wheel. If they could just get a little more traction, they could get back up onto the road.

  "Okay, let’s try again." They’d been at this for over an hour. As Pollard gently applied the gas, Akers bounced on the rear fender, pushing it into contact with the ground, throwing rocks and mud against his shins as he cursed. Finally, the sedan jolted forward, catching the lip of the ditch as it sent one final spray of mud in the face of the frazzled agent.

  "Where to?" Pollard asked innocently.

  "I need to change my clothes," he answered sarcastically. "Then we have to head back downtown. We need to do something about Ferguson before she talks."

  "What did you have in mind?"

  "I was thinking you might bring her back out to the trailer to identify some of her belongings. A desperate woman like that might escape."

  Pollard didn’t like that idea. It would reflect on his service record if she got away under his watch. But Akers was the senior agent, and he’d done the dirty work on Estes and Thayer.

  * * *

  Elena Diaz was dead on her feet. Since Saturday morning, she’d had only a few hours of sleep, most of that coming early Sunday. But things were finally coming together.

  Twenty-three critical warrants sat on her desk, all signed by a federal judge and awaiting execution: the IRS would freeze all accounts for the individuals suspected of involvement; Margadon’s Kryfex operations would come to a halt and the company’s network would be disabled; suspects would be taken into custody; and Spencer, Ruth, and Ruth’s daughter would be transferred to protective custody. Ideally, the operation would be initiated when Spencer turned herself in, as she was the one person who could pull the whole case together.

  "Agent Diaz?" Chad stood in her doorway, his tie loosened and his coat thrown over his arm.

  "You calling it a night?"

  "Yeah, for both of us. Come on, I’ll walk you down." Elena got up and walked into the hallway, away from the listening devices.

  "I don’t know, Chad. I have a feeling Spencer’s going to call again. I think I should wait here."

  "You need some sleep, Elena. There’s nothing you can do from here that you can’t do from home."

  Elena nodded in resignation, returning to her office to gather her things. As she and her boss started down the stairs, the phone in her pocket rang.

  Glancing at the display, she shook her head in confusion. "Elena Diaz."

  "Did you get to her? Is she okay?"

  Relief rushed through the agent’s veins. It was Spencer.

  "She’s in custody. She’s due to be extradited tomorrow morning." The agent hated delivering the bad news, but this wasn’t the time for sugar coating. "But we’re on it, and things look pretty good for her. We have to deal with you now," she said firmly, knowing that the sons of bitches in the van were tuning in.

  "They know who she is, Elena. They know she’s with me."

  "I don’t think so. They know she’s—"

  "They know! They came to look for me."

  Elena held up her hand to shush her boss, who was encouraging her to have Spencer come in.

  "Okay, listen, we’re not ready for this yet. I need for you to stay out of sight for at least another day. I tell you what, Spence…here’s what I want you to do: tomorrow, the pizza place, usual time. Do you understand?"

  "Tomorrow?"

  "That’s right, Tuesday, same time as before."

  "I’ve got it."

  "Stay out of sight until then. And take care of yourself, okay?"

  "Take care of Ruth."

  "Don’t worry about her. We’re on it."

  The call ended and Elena cracked her first smile in nine days. The boys in the van were scratching their heads about this one. She was a genius.

  "What’s happening?"

  Elena looked at her watch. "We need to get rolling with the warrants, Chad. She’s coming in in about two hours."

  "What’s the ‘pizza place’ all about?" Chad was totally out of the loop.

  "It’s kind of personal, Chad," she answered sheepishly. "But she’s going to walk into an all-night grocery in Alexandria at one a.m. and we need to arrange for a black and white to bring her into custody and take her to their precinct."

  "But you told her tomorrow."

  "I said Tuesday, same time. She knows what I mean."

  "So we’re rolling?"

  "That’s right. It’s time to get everyone in place."


  CHAPTER 27

  "THE PIZZA PLACE," Spencer chuckled. "Good call."

  "What?"

  "I’ve got good news and bad news, Jerry. The good news is that you get to get rid of me, and in a day or so, your life might be back to normal. The bad news is that I need you to drop me off in Alexandria at one o’clock in the morning."

  "No problem." Jerry enjoyed the excitement, and if it helped Viv, he wanted to do it.

  Spencer smiled to herself at her ex-lover’s coded message. When their respective libidos ignited on their first date, she and the IRS agent skipped the restaurant and went right to Elena’s townhouse. At one a.m., they emerged from their carnal explorations, starving, but with nothing in the house to eat. Spencer insisted that she was owed a dinner, so they picked up a frozen pizza at an all-night grocery nearby, later feeding it to one another in bed. To this day, it was always their recommendation when someone suggested going for pizza.

  "Why don’t we go back so I can tell Viv what we’re doing? She’s going to need a way to know when it’s safe for her to go home."

  * * *

  "What the hell does that mean?" Calvin Akers was pissed as hell. They’d caught the conversation when Rollins called in, but Diaz was trying to give them the slip. "The pizza place, same time."

  "I guess Rollins and Diaz had a favorite place they’d meet for pizza," Pollard offered.

  "Ya think?" There were times Akers thought seriously about offing his stupid partner.

  The surveillance team reported that Diaz and her boss had gone home for the night, but Akers didn’t trust this woman as far as he could throw her. It was time to call out the troops.

  "Look, I’m going to drop you at the office. Go ahead and take care of Ferguson and I’ll handle Rollins."

  "What’s your plan?"

  "Just do your part and don’t worry about mine," Akers growled with irritation.

  Akers pulled to the curb and watched Pollard go inside. On his cell phone, he dialed the memory code for Jeffrey Wilkinson. His best chance was to make this about ego.

  The director had gone home after his meeting at the IRS, still unsure of what action he should take. But the more he thought about it, the more he concluded that Elena Diaz was too close to the suspect in this case to be objective. There might be something illegal going on at Margadon, but the idea that two of his agents were involved in crimes – murders, no less – was absurd.

  "Hello, Jeff? Akers. Listen, something’s moving with the Rollins case, but we can’t tell what it is. She called in and Diaz gave her some sort of code for coming in. I don’t trust her. Rollins is going to slip through our fingers if we don’t go full force to bring her in. We’re not just going to lose this collar; we’re going to be the laughingstock of the Bureau if she pulls this off right under our noses."

  Wilkinson grew incensed as he heard his agent’s report. If Akers and Pollard were up to something, they wouldn’t be playing it out in front of the whole force. Diaz and Merke had crossed a line with their little cat and mouse game, and it was time to remind them that the Bureau was the King of the Hill.

  "Tell me what you need."

  * * *

  Jessie and Lisa were sleeping soundly in a room with twin beds, the other bed occupied by the nine-year-old girl who lived there. Spencer eased down to sit by Jessie, brushing the blonde curls from the little girl’s face. She’d held up pretty well considering the excitement of the night and the separation from her mother. From what Ruth had said, the poor child was used to being with adults who treated her like she was a bother, so at least that wasn’t the case here. They’d all been welcomed by these friends of Jerry’s cousin.

  Leaning down, she gently kissed the child’s forehead. "Be safe, Jessie. Your mom loves you very much." Careful not to wake the girl, she stood and tiptoed out of the room to say her goodbyes to Viv.

  "I think you should plan to wait at least three days before you call. And use Jerry’s phone like I did. You can’t let them know where you’re staying." Spencer was outlining what Viv should do if she didn’t return right away.

  "Do you think I can go to a bank? I’m going to need some cash."

  Spencer nodded. "Just be careful. If it hangs up, take off."

  "Good luck to you." Viv pulled her into a motherly hug.

  "And to you. Jessie couldn’t be in better hands."

  With that farewell, the programmer got into the truck and closed the door.

  "So what’s this about a pizza place?" Jerry asked.

  Spencer gave him directions to the all-night grocery, anxious to have this part end. Once she was out of danger, she could at least get Ruth out of the hands of the agents who were tracking her. She’d be of no use to them any more. She had to hope that there was some way Elena could help her avoid what awaited her in Maine. Maybe if she were a witness in this case, that would get her special consideration.

  "Is this alright?" Jerry had pulled into the store’s parking lot. Only a handful of cars were parked out front at this hour.

  "Yeah," she sighed, directing him to a dark corner of the lot. "Thanks for everything, Jerry."

  "Glad I could help."

  "You should get out of here. Okay?"

  The man gave her a friendly salute, which she returned as he drove away. Her eyes nervously scanning the lot for the black sedan, Spencer walked toward the store. When the automatic door opened, she turned immediately to the produce aisle on the far right, anxious about finding a rear exit.

  In the tilted mirrors that lined the back wall, she watched as two uniformed officers strode through the front door, one following her route, the other heading directly to the back of the store. Gradually, she inched toward the corner, where a swinging door led to the storage area and loading dock.

  Studying her options, she watched as they drew closer. Both of them were in her line of sight, a barrel-chested African-American approaching from the produce aisle, a wiry Hispanic man from along the meat display in the back. The closer they came, the more her heart pounded in her chest.

  "Spencer Rollins?" the Hispanic officer asked.

  Almost imperceptibly, she nodded, her eyes wide with apprehension.

  "I’m placing you under arrest for the murders of Henry Estes and James Thayer. You have the right to remain silent…."

  His instructions droned on as he cuffed her hands in front of her and gave her a cursory pat-down. The store’s few shoppers had congregated in the neighboring aisles to watch the arrest, seemingly dismayed at the ease with which the suspect was taken.

  Spencer was escorted back through the store, out the front door, and into the back seat of a waiting cruiser. The African-American officer took the wheel and the Hispanic officer sat up front beside him, a metal screen separating them from their suspect.

  The car pulled out of the lot and turned, parking almost immediately on a dark street. The din of the police radio was the only sound, and Spencer suddenly worried that she’d just made a big mistake. Shouldn’t these two be taking her somewhere?

  The Hispanic officer turned around and opened a sliding window. "Hold your hands up here; I’ll unlock the cuffs."

  Still fearful, Spencer raised her hands and watched as he removed the metal links.

  "There’s a vest under the seat. You should put it on."

  "Why?"

  "Agent Diaz’s orders."

  Spencer visibly relaxed at hearing her friend’s name, slumping back against the seat. Elena had arranged the whole scenario. "What’s next?"

  "When you get that on, I’m going to call in that we have a suspect en route and she’ll meet us at the station."

  "This is kind of tight," she said, struggling to get the body armor pulled down over her sweatshirt."

  "You should probably take off your shirt and wear it underneath. That’s what we do," he explained. "Having it on the outside is kind of like wearing as sign that says ‘shoot me in the head.’"

  Spencer could have gone all night without hearing that.
"Are you expecting any trouble?"

  "No, this is just a precaution. What Agent Diaz wants, she gets." He and his partner faced forward while she pulled her shirt off and slipped into the vest.

  "Yeah, she’s kind of forceful, alright."

  "We’re glad to do it. Last year, she put a commendation in our file for some work we did for her. Most people don’t take the time to do something like that, but it really meant a lot to both of us."

  That sounded like Elena, Spencer thought, always looking to shore up the right allies. When she needed a cop, she wanted a good one.

  "You all set?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay, I need for you to put the cuffs back on, but you don’t have to make them too tight."

  Spencer did as she was told, feeling more confident when they pulled away from the curb.

  "This is unit 416. We have a suspect in custody and are en route to the precinct."

  "Unit 416, can you clarify what suspect?"

  "Female shoplifter; not identified."

  "Roger out."

  * * *

  Calvin Akers sat in the black sedan, its front and rear fender smashed and one headlight out. The condition of his car was the very least of his worries.

  Caffeine would be his constant companion for the next twenty-four hours. He needed to stay awake and monitor the situation with Rollins. It was doubtful that a pizza place would be open all-night, but he couldn’t take the chance. He’d already called all the shops in Alexandria, figuring that one near the agent’s home was the best bet. Two of them were open until one a.m. That was fifteen minutes from now and he had the directions in his head.

  With the portable unit in the console, Akers was privy to all of Diaz’s telephone conversations, plus the bug Pollard had placed on her end table when they came the first time to question her about Rollins. He had almost nodded off when the phone rang loudly inside the house. Sitting up straight and shaking his head, he adjusted the volume to hear the exchange. But after four rings, the call went to voicemail.