Gone Unnoticed: A Kate Reid Novel (The Kate Reid Series Book 3)

by Robin Mahle

  The headlights of Nick’s SUV went dark and he rolled to a stop, a safe distance from the meeting. The rest of the team arrived in the same manner and Nick radioed them. “I want everyone to stay where they are. We don’t know if the victims are here or are being held in another location. I do not want to jump the gun.”

  “Ten-four. We’ll wait until we get visual confirmation,” one of the agents replied.

  “What if the victims aren’t here?” Kate asked.

  “Then we follow them. Whatever’s going to go down will happen tonight. Mercer will want this finished as quickly as possible,” Jameson replied.

  The men under surveillance stepped out from their respective vehicles, which were parked in front of a home. The agents waited and watched as the men went inside. A team had arrived minutes ahead and were equipped with surveillance gear. Parked cars lined the street nose to bumper and made it easier for the FBI van to blend with the surroundings. Nick’s car was only a few feet ahead, but still about thirty yards from the home.

  “You guys picking up anything yet?” Nick radioed the surveillance team.

  “We’ve got audio.”

  “Put it on this channel. I need to know what they’re saying.”

  A moment later, the voices of the men inside the home sounded over a static-filled line. “Damn it. We’ve got a lot of disturbance here,” Nick said.

  They listened as Corbett spoke of this latest delivery.

  “Look, I got what you asked for, but with this heat, we have to wait until shit cools down before the next order. You can see here, the websites are functioning and we’re operating below the FBI’s radar. I won’t make the same mistakes. These sites are being bounced all over the world and there’s no way in hell they’re going to track me down. I stay out of sight and Kovac’s been handling most of the acquisitions. Problem is, word is getting around too that the streets are getting dangerous. So we need to find a better way. Maybe head over to the Carolinas or Florida. We can organize a shipment from Cuba.”

  “I am aware of your colleague’s unfortunate situation and the number of bodies that seem to be stacking up against the both of you. Quite frankly, I see that you two are the problem here, drawing the unwanted attention, not Druseburg. And, I’ve already got people working those areas.” The voice had an English accent. That was Mercer.

  “The problems have been taken care of and we are on track again, sir. My priority is to get these assets dispersed as quickly as possible. I just wanted you to see that the operation is effective. I am getting daily inquires via these websites.”

  Kate turned away with disgust. Listening to them speak as though the women were nothing more than products to be sold made her want to jump out of the car and beat the hell out of them right now.

  She caught Nick’s glance in the rear view. He seemed to sense what she’d been thinking. “You okay back there?”

  “Fine.”

  “Be patient. It’ll happen.”

  The radio sounded again. “The warehouses at the pier. Kovac will have them there in thirty minutes.”

  “They’re getting ready to move,” Jameson said.

  » » »

  Nicola was home with her mother and brother. A patrolman had been stationed outside the house for the past few days, since Vito’s body was found. Detective Garrett arranged it in order to keep watch on the family and the officer now sat in his car across the street from their small home. The call had come in that something was going down with Kovac and Corbett, and the officer was on high alert.

  The family knew he was there and were instructed not to leave the house until further notice.

  Nicola still didn’t feel safe, even with the knowledge that a policeman waited outside their home. Her mother’s nerves were on end and her brother simply sat on the couch, his eyes fixed to the television. He hadn’t spoken much since Vito died, believing he was the one responsible for his brother’s death. If he’d just kept his mouth shut, none of this would be happening right now.

  The dinner her mom made still sat, now cold, on her plate. Nicola hadn’t much of an appetite. She was afraid and so long as the man who killed her brother was still out there, she would stay afraid.

  She decided her appetite was gone for good and pushed up from the tattered wooden table that was covered in a blue cloth her mother had sewn together. Above the kitchen sink was a small window with bars. Bars covered all of their windows. That was what all of the houses in her neighborhood were like.

  Nicola took her plate to the sink and emptied the remnants into the disposal. The curtains were drawn closed, and she raised a hand to pull one of the panels back just enough to peek through. The unmarked police car was still there. She knew what it looked like. Dark blue, four-door sedan, a Ford or something like that. She wasn’t well versed in American cars, or any car, for that matter.

  She narrowed her eyes to gain focus in the dusky evening sky and tried to see inside the car. Maybe the officer was getting hungry and she could bring him some food, or maybe something to drink. It appeared that he was still inside. She was sure the head-shaped shadow was him. It was just so hard to see.

  Nicola dropped the curtain and opened the refrigerator. A few cans of RC Cola rested on the wire shelves and she grabbed one of them. In the small pantry were some bags of chips she usually packed in her school lunches and she took one of those too.

  On her way to the living room, Gregor looked up at her. “Where’s Mama?” she asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders and returned his gaze to the flashing images on the screen.

  “Mama?” Nicola stood in the hall, then she spotted the bathroom light on and the door closed.

  She walked to the front door and unlocked the deadbolt.

  “Gdje ideš?” “Where are you going?” Gregor asked.

  She rolled her eyes, wishing he would use English more often. “Outside.” She raised the soda and bag of chips. “He might be hungry.”

  The humidity had risen when the sun set and now the warm air felt sticky. Summer here was not very pleasant and she much preferred summers at home.

  Nicola made her way to the end of the drive and looked both ways before crossing the street, just as her mother taught her. It seemed like her flip-flops were the only sound and the neighborhood was unusually quiet.

  The car’s windows were still rolled up and tinted, so it was difficult to see inside, but she still saw his head. He must not have noticed her, though, because he hadn’t turned in her direction.

  Nicola stood at the driver’s side door and rapped gently on the window. “Hello?”

  The officer didn’t move. She turned her head left and then right. No one was around. Nicola reached for the door handle and pulled.

  The can dropped to the street and split open, a forced spray of soda spinning on the ground. The bag of chips slipped from her fingers as Nicola looked at the man. His head was secured to the headrest by a rope; a rope that was used to strangle him. His face was purple and his eyes were bloodshot and bulging.

  Nicola screamed and started running back to the house. As she reached the steps of the porch, a man lurched out of the shrubs and snatched her. Her feet flailed in the air as she punched his arms and screamed as loud as she could.

  The man slammed his hand over her mouth. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill your entire fucking family.”

  Her legs stopped moving and no more screams arose, but she still gripped his arm and tried to pry it from her waist.

  His pant leg caught on the split stair tread that Vito had promised to fix. After stumbling over the damaged step, he regained his balance and continued to walk towards the front door. The door was still ajar and he pushed it open.

  Gregor must’ve heard Nicola’s screams because he stood just feet from the door, a knife raised in his hand. “Let her go.”

  With a burly frame, the man stood not more than five and half feet tall, and he grinned at Gregor’s demand. “Put the knife down or I put a bullet i
n your sister.”

  A gun was jabbed into Nicola’s side and she winced in pain. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Gregor. “Don’t let him hurt me.”

  “Boy, you’d better put that knife down. You think I don’t know your mother’s here too? Do you think you can save them both?” He pulled the gun from her hip so that Gregor understood this was not a situation that he could win.

  “Did you kill my brother?” Gregor still gripped the knife hard, his white knuckles outlined his trembling hand.

  The man lowered Nicola to the ground, but did not loosen his hold. “Son, you have no idea that you and your brother stepped into a heaping pile of shit. Now, he already paid the price. Don’t make me collect from you too. Put down the fucking knife.”

  Gregor and Nicola locked their eyes, understanding what it was he had to do. He cast a brief glance sideways towards the kitchen.

  “She in there? Your mama?” The man waited, but no reply came. “Come on now. I ain’t got all night. Let’s just get this over with, you hear?”

  Nicola understood what was about to happen. She knew just as well as Gregor that none of them were getting out of there alive.

  » » »

  The call came in on Kovac’s phone. He was at the pier inside a warehouse, waiting for Corbett and Mercer to arrive. Three young women were bound by plastic ties and sat on the floor against the exposed brick wall. They all wore battered faces, the punishment for trying to scream or run away.

  “I’ve got them. What do you want me to do?”

  “Mercer might be interested in the girl. Bring her. Kill her brother and mother.” Kovac shoved his cell back into his pocket and opened the metal door in order to spot the expected guests. Still nothing. He was beginning to wonder when the hell they were going to show up. The girls were growing restless again, but he didn’t want to push more heroin. Couldn’t risk an overdose. His only other option was to gag them or knock them unconscious. Neither option was desirable at this moment. It would make them more difficult to transport.

  » » »

  “What the hell’s he doing?” Nick asked, a rhetorical question that remained unanswered. Instead, Dwight and Kate cast a watchful eye towards the wandering Stan Kovac. He propped himself against the exterior of the building with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

  Nick reached for his phone, which vibrated against his waist. “Scarborough.” His eyes never left Kovac. “What? When? Are any units there yet?”

  Kate became increasingly interested in Nick’s conversation and so did Dwight. They had no idea who he was talking to, but it seemed each began to suspect it was Detective Garrett and that it wasn’t good news.

  “We can go in now, but we won’t get Corbett or Mercer, you know that. I need both of them here to finish the deal. We’re too close,” Nick continued. “Just get the family out of there, goddammit.”

  Kate turned to Jameson. With wide eyes, she looked at him and, in that moment, they both knew what was happening. She began to shake her head. Her chest heaved as the thought of bolting from the car ripped through her body. It was Nicola and she was in danger.

  “Shit!” Nick slammed his palm against the steering wheel. He turned to the wall where only a moment ago, Kovac stood, but no longer. He’d retreated back inside.

  “Is it Nicola? Is she dead?” With a trembling voice, Kate tried to get the words out in something that resembled an audible tone.

  “The patrolman isn’t responding to radio calls. Garrett thinks something might have happened to him. Units are already on their way to the house, but we don’t know anything yet.”

  “Oh, God, we have to get over there. We have to help her,” Kate replied.

  “We need to stay here, Kate,” Dwight began. “Garrett’s got people heading there now. She’ll be fine. You got to let them do their job. We can’t let Mercer get away.”

  Kate knew he was right – they were both right – but that didn’t change the fact that her heart raced and her mind flashed images of Nicola, dead. “Please, just let me go there. I can ride with one of the other agents.”

  Vehicles appeared in the distance, but with headlights shining towards the agents, it was difficult to discern what type. It had to be Mercer and Corbett. The larger van was likely intended for use as a transport.

  “They’re here,” Nick radioed the team. “Wait for the go from me.”

  “Ten-four.”

  “We wait for the exchange. Once the women are in the van, we go. We can’t take any chances the victims end up in any crossfire.” Nick relayed the message to the team once again.

  The risk was too great to charge into the building. The victims could easily be targeted. Nick was sure this was the safest bet.

  » » »

  The door snapped from its hinges with ease as the officers kicked it in, guns drawn and walked inside the home.

  Detective Garrett stood outside of the opened patrol car door. His officer was dead. He’d been too late. “We need an ambulance at 135 E. 45th Street. Officer down. I repeat, officer down.”

  Two other units raced along the roadway towards the house, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Neighbors began to peek out their windows and step out onto their front porches with a sense of déjà vu. It was only weeks ago when a similar scene transpired.

  “Where the hell were you people earlier?” Garrett growled under his breath.

  Inside the house, the two officers demanded any occupants reveal themselves. One person lay on the floor, a pool of blood still flowing from beneath him. The officer pressed his fingers against the carotid artery to check for a pulse. “This one’s gone.” He said. Returning to his feet, he continued with his partner.

  “Richmond Police. You need to come out.” The officer stood at the edge of the hall, gun pointing in the direction of the darkened corridor. He looked to his partner and shook his head. A pointed finger suggested they move forward with caution and the two officers stepped along the carpeted floor.

  Each room was cleared until they reached the bathroom. A barely audible whimper sounded from beneath the door. The light was on and the first officer looked to his partner before announcing their presence. “Richmond Police.” He turned his head and whispered, “Someone’s inside.” Returning to the closed door, he announced again, “Are you armed?”

  Another faint groan and the officer pushed the door open, ensuring the barrel of his gun would be the first thing the person would see. “Do you have any weapons? Are you armed?”

  “Help.” It was a female voice, but her face wasn’t yet visible.

  He continued to push the door open and revealed the victim lying on the floor. “Jesus.” Lowering his gun, the officer moved towards the woman. “We need an ambulance now.”

  The other patrolman turned on his heel and ran through the home and back out the front door. “We have an injured victim inside. GSW in the chest,” he said to Detective Garrett.

  “Christ. Ambulance is on its way.”

  “What about Hicks?”

  “He’s gone.” Garrett pushed his hand through his hair, disgusted by the scene.

  “There’s another GS victim in the living room, but no pulse. What the hell happened here, detective?”

  “They came for them and we weren’t ready.” Garrett turned around to see the ambulance barreling down the roadway. “I underestimated their capabilities.”

  Garrett and the officer entered the home and made their way to the bathroom. The other officer had placed a towel under the woman’s head and was applying pressure to the wound.

  “She’s lost a lot of blood, but good news is that the bullet struck just beneath her shoulder and exited. Getting her treated quickly; I think she’ll be fine.”

  “My daughter,” she moaned.

  “What’d she say?” Garrett leaned over.

  “Something about her daughter.”

  “Ma’am, did they take your daughter?” Garrett looked over to the officer. “Did you find a young female v
ictim?”

  He shook his head. “Just the male in the living room.”

  “That’s Gregor Bjuric.”

  The woman on the floor again tried to speak. “She’s gone.”

  “God’s sake.” Garrett marched out of the bathroom and back outside of the home. He ripped his cell from his pocket. “They got her, Scarborough. They got the girl.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  The black Escalade rolled to a stop just feet from the building’s entrance on the pier. The headlights switched off and all eyes were fixed on the now parked car. No one had yet emerged from inside.

  The other car pulled up alongside Mercer’s. The two cars remained parked; still, no one seemed ready to step out.

  The last to arrive was the van that stopped several feet behind the other two. The sound of its engine quickly died and its lights dimmed. Corbett was the first to get out. He stood at the front of his car and waited, glancing towards the door of the building and shifting his gaze to the surroundings.

  Mercer stepped out from the rear passenger seat of his Escalade, a cell phone fixed to his ear. “My colleague will be waiting for the shipment,” Mercer said, ending the call. “Shall we complete our transfer?”

  Corbett nodded and began to walk towards the building. Mercer followed him inside.

  Three unmarked FBI cars and a surveillance van were positioned around the perimeter of the pier and warehouse at a safe distance. Agents Scarborough and Jameson waited with Kate inside the SUV. Her head still reeled from the thought of Nicola and she needed to know if the girl was safe.

  “On my mark,” Nick relayed to the team.

  With the men inside, they waited. Kate’s heart wanted to beat out of her chest. It took everything she had not to run inside by herself and demand to know if Nicola was okay.

  “Wait. What the hell is that? Who’s coming?” Nick asked, pointing ahead at the approaching car.