“Always the big brother.” Tristan snapped his phone shut before Wyatt could respond, stuffed the yearbook in his backpack and headed for the bedroom. As he entered the hall he noticed night had fallen and a flashlight beam was passing over the front windows; the scent of Old Spice drifted in. He couldn’t smell anyone else, so at least the odds were even. He dropped to the floor, and staying in the shadows slithered down the hall towards the bedroom window, where he had entered the condo. As he dropped down into the bushes and slid the window closed he heard the front door click open.
After a few minutes of drawers opening and closets being emptied there was an abrupt halt. “I’m at Maxwell’s place,” the intruder spoke into his cell. “No, I haven’t found anything yet. Do you think he was really waiting for some girl when we confronted him? If that’s the case, I gotta wonder how much he told her. Yeah, okay, I’ll be out of here in about thirty minutes and then I’ll head back to the office.”
This was the first positive thing Tristan heard all night. It was looking more like they might have a witness to the scene of the crime, instead of a third murderer. Realizing that this man had even less information than he had regarding their mysterious woman, Tristan slowly crept away from the condo. The dusk of the early evening hid his departure as he crossed a number of well kept lawns and headed back to his Porsche parked two blocks away.
Tristan sat in his midnight blue Porsche 911 Turbo staring at the yearbook. He was trying to put the pieces together but he couldn’t get any of them to fit. He pulled out his phone and once again called Wyatt. “Update.”
“Nothing yet, why don’t you go back to your place and get some rest. You’ve been up for over twenty-four hours.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I’m getting a little sloppy. I missed the early signs of one of the guys from the forest breaking into Jeffery’s place.”
“Tristan!” Wyatt suddenly sounded worried.
“It’s no big deal; I got out before he saw me. I’m simply saying I do need some down time.”
“Go home and straight to bed. Meet me at the base in five hours.”
* * *
At exactly six the following morning Tristan arrived at the front gate of the military base. After a hands-on inspection of his identification, he was saluted on base by the Marine at the gate. Tristan drove to the back of the base and pulled into a parking place directly in front of a non-descript gray building with the initials SOCOM posted over the door.
This was the Puget Sound satellite office of the secret Special Operations Command, made up of elite military personnel from the Army, Navy, and Air Force. This SOCOM satellite consisted of ten people in two teams; Tristan, a former Navy Seal at the rank of Commander, led Team Alpha.
Wyatt was his boss and officer in charge of both teams. As far as Tristan was concerned joining SOCOM couldn’t have come at a better time. While he loved the Seals, he often found himself butting heads with stricter military rules. SOCOM gave him more flexibility and this fit his personality much better. It also didn’t hurt to have his brother as his boss, at least most of the time.
This transfer of both brothers was not coincidental. Ten years ago while in the Navy Seals, Captain Roberts was their commanding officer in charge of all Seal teams. Roberts was known to have a “hands on” way of running his teams. He made it a habit to personally know each of his men. Tristan and Wyatt caught Captain Roberts’s attention, with their extraordinary abilities and perfect mission records.
Roberts had tracked both brothers’ careers and six months ago, now as the Admiral in charge of SOCOM, he requested their transfer. Unwilling to commit his idea to paper, Roberts set up a face to face meeting with the Farradays. His plan was to form a special team using military personnel displaying more advanced instincts. It was during this meeting that the brothers revealed to him their heightened abilities, with a promise that he would keep their secret.
Removing his hat, Tristan entered the large building and walked directly to his commander’s office. Standing in the doorway he saluted the man sitting behind the desk, whose attention was on his computer.
“Morning, sir,” Tristan greeted the officer.
Wyatt looked up from his computer to see Tristan standing in the doorway. Studying Wyatt’s face, Tristan had the sense of gazing into a mirror. Tristan had violet eyes and black hair, while Wyatt’s eyes were blue and his hair dark blonde, but otherwise they were twins.
“You can drop the sir, we’re the only two here,” Wyatt said.
“Did your search uncover anything?” Tristan tossed his hat into one of the two chairs in front of Wyatt’s desk and himself in the other.
“Yeah, quite a bit actually,” Wyatt responded, stretching his full six foot two inch frame leisurely back into his chair. “Vicki Burrows owns a small woman’s clothing store. She’s married, has three children, and lives in Maine. Not likely she’s our woman, so I moved on to Victory Winters.
Victory lives in Poulsbo, Washington, literally down the road from here. She is a veterinarian and a geneticist, specializing in molecular biology, working for Claremont Research located in Bellevue. She is the department head for some kind of research being done with canine DNA and its potential benefits in curing diseases in humans. I can’t seem to find out much detail about the project. It does sound like her expertise and Jeffery’s are quite similar. I did find an abundance of family background. Parents are Joseph and Susan Winters, of The Winters Corporation, a leading firm in cancer research, among other life-threatening diseases. Joseph and Susan were killed in an automobile accident about four years ago, looks like a hit and run. The company was left to their daughters, Payton, Victory, and Willow.
Payton and Willow both work for the company, but Victory chose another path. She still serves on the Board of Directors, along with her sisters. The family owns a seventy five-acre estate on the outskirts of Poulsbo. All three sisters have that listed as their home address,” Wyatt reported.
“That sounds like a good start. Both she and Jeffery are involved in DNA research. Now we need to locate Victory and find out why she was in the forest and if she saw anything,” Tristan said.
“I tried calling her at work this morning. They say that she called in and said she wouldn’t be back in the office for two weeks, she has a lead on a current project. Sounds to me as if this is something she does quite often. I couldn’t get any more information than that, but I got the feeling that it was all very last minute.”
Tristan got up from his chair and poured himself a cup of coffee, his fourth of the morning. “The good thing is she called in. That means she got away, and the two guys that killed Jeffery are either not aware of her, or haven’t identified her yet. I’m going to do more background research on the company.” With his free hand he grabbed his hat and headed towards his own office.
Tristan sat down behind his desk. He skimmed the mail and memos that had been put there since yesterday. None of it was urgent, so he stacked it all into a pile and moved it to the far corner of his desk. He turned his attention to his computer and sipped on his coffee. He typed in “Winters Corporation” causing an immediate flood of information to fill his screen. Scanning the data, he read about the formation of the company, the studies they participated in, and the drugs they created. Needing his own first impression, he picked up his phone and dialed.
“Winters Corporation, good morning, how may I direct your call?” came a woman’s smiling voice.
“Yes, I’m trying to reach Ms. Winters.” Tristan answered.
“Which one, sir?” the woman asked.
“Payton.”
“I’m sorry; Ms. Winters is on vacation, would you like her voice mail?”
“When do you expect her to return?”
“I can’t give out that information sir; would you like her voicemail?”
“No, thank you. Could you connect me to Willow Winters?”
“Ms. Winters is located at one of our international offices; would you like
me to transfer you?”
“No thank you, I’ll call back. Good bye.” Tristan hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair to think. Wyatt appeared in his doorway. “They aren’t easy people to get in touch with on the phone,” Tristan commented.
“You called the company.” Wyatt leaned his broad shoulder against the door jam.
“Yeah, Payton is also out of the office. Willow is out of the country at another location. I searched the airlines passenger manifests. There was no listing for Victory Winters, so we know she’s still in the country, unless she has access to a private jet. I also googled Victory and Payton. There have been a couple of newspaper articles about Victory. Seems she is a practicing vet, with a specialty in holistic remedies. She practices both acupuncture and chiropractic on her patients. The articles talk about two dogs that couldn’t walk and she literally got them up and running again.” Tristan said.
“It seems Payton has an avid dog hobby too. She is a professional dog handler. There were a number of articles about her and her Dobermans.” Wyatt nodded his head toward the computer. “Type in American Kennel Club, let’s see if we can find some kind of schedule.”
Tristan typed in the information. “I’ve found it, the AKC. Wow, they have shows every weekend all over the country.”
Wyatt’s cell rang. “What do you have for me, Logan?” Logan was one of Tristan’s team members. He was former Army Special Forces.
“I searched the property. The motorhome is not on site. The only people that I saw look like employees, there was no one matching either of the woman’s descriptions.”
“Okay. I’d like you to set up a tap on the phones. Can you do that now, or do you have to wait until dark?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem, sir. Like I said, there are only two employees on the grounds right now. I’ll get right on it, over and out,” said Logan.
“Excuse me, sir.” Wyatt turned to find Jack, another member of Team Alpha standing behind him.
“Yes, Jack.”
“I’ve completed my work on Victory Winters’ phones.”
“Did you find anything?”
“She received a phone call on her cell from Jeffery Maxwell two days ago. She placed two calls this morning. The first one to her sister Payton, at eight ten, lasting one minute; the next one at eight twelve to her office,” Jack reported.
“Can you tell me where she was when she made the calls?” Wyatt asked.
“Yes sir,” Jack replied as he pulled his report out of his file to find the answer. “She was approximately five miles south of Mount Shasta, California.”
“Good work, Jack. Get the license on Payton’s motorhome and locate that vehicle.”
“Yes sir.” Jack replied as he left the office.
“Her receptionist said she is on vacation. You think that Payton took off for a dog show and Victory is running scared after her?” Tristan asked.
“I think that is a good possibility, and as good a starting place as any. She’s not at her office, didn’t take a plane, and is supposed to be working on a project. Going to her sister would be a safe place in her mind. Of course the million dollar question is why she didn’t call the police, if she did in fact witness Jeffery’s murder,” Wyatt said.
“There must have been a reason in her mind. But it does seem strange that she would watch her friend be killed and not try to contact the authorities,” Tristan agreed.
“I need you on the road asap,” Wyatt snapped.
“I packed this morning. I’m ready to leave anytime.”
“Okay, follow her trail and see where it leads. I’ll keep the others on standby and have them wait for any new intel. There are a bunch of dog shows in California. San Francisco has a show on Friday. My guess is Payton took the time off to go. There are shows all down the state for the next three weeks. I’d say that seems to fit her time line.” Wyatt turned and left Tristan’s office. Walking away he had another thought. “And Tristan.”
“Yes sir.” Tristan responded using Wyatt’s proper title in front of the other men.
“Make sure you keep in touch. Or I will keep informed using my own means.” He said without so much as breaking stride toward his office.
“Yes sir, always threatening.” Tristan returned with a slight smile.
THREE
Tristan’s Porsche 911 maneuvered the highway with ease. Driving gave him the time he needed to work through the last few days’ events, still trying to fit the pieces together. His cell phone lit up and he tapped the screen on his dashboard. “Hey Jack, what’s up?”
“I tracked an outgoing call from Victory’s cell a few seconds ago. The call oriented from San Francisco, looks like she is at the fairgrounds.”
“So, it’s a high probability Victory has reached her destination and is meeting up with her sister at the dog show. Question is how long will they stay put?”
“The show goes for two days. You think they will take off before that?” Jack asked.
“No telling. Depends on Victory’s state of mind, and Payton’s reaction to what happened to her sister. Thanks Jack, I’ll talk to you soon.” Tristan tapped his screen off, grabbed a Red Bull out of the cooler in his passenger seat, popped the top and turned up the volume on his Phil Collins disk.
* * *
Two hours later at a private airstrip outside of Seattle, a black Lincoln Navigator with black tinted windows pulled up to the tarmac where a Cessna 400 sat idling. Two men got out of the Navigator where they were greeted by a third man at the plane.
“Hey Max, sorry to pull you back from your day off, but we needed a man with your experience on this job.” Dave Anderson walked toward Max, greeting him with an outstretched hand.
“That’s okay, Dave. The boss said he would pay me double time. So, who are we tracking?” Max asked shaking Dave’s hand.
“We’ve been trying to locate this Vic. We think she is the woman that Jeffery told Ken he was supposed to meet up with. We located a woman who we believe might be this person. Her name is Victory Winters.”
“How much does she know?” asked Max.
“That’s part of the problem, we have no idea. She could be totally in the dark,” said Dave.
“Come on guys,” Jerry jumped in. “Are we going to stand out here all day shooting the breeze or get on the damn plane?”
“He’s a little cranky,” Dave snickered. “He thinks someone beat him to Jeff’s condo and searched it before he got there.”
“I know they did and it was a pro. Couldn’t tell that anything was misplaced, but the hairs on my arms stood up. I’ll bet I just missed him.”
All three men loaded their bags and got into the aircraft. Ten minutes later the Cessna taxied down the runway, lifted off and disappeared into the steely gray sky.
* * *
Victory arrived at the San Francisco Fairgrounds and was given directions to her sister’s motorhome parking space. She pulled up alongside Payton’s forty-five foot custom-made Prevost. With four sliders, a king size bed, full bath, and washer/dryer, it was everything a girl could ask for. The interior was done in a warm shade of sage with a coffee-colored leather overstuffed sofa and two huge chairs to match. The floor was wall-to-wall light cherry hardwood. There was even a small office where Payton did all her work while she was on the road. She called it her own private island.
Victory opened the door and was greeted by a big black Doberman madly wagging his short stub of a tail. “Hey there, Parker.” She lovingly rubbed the top of his head. “You holding down the fort? I guess everyone else must be ringside.” As if understanding every word she said, Parker responded with a whine. “I know it’s terrible to be retired. Look at it this way, you get your pick of the furniture while everyone is out.” Victory rubbed his head one last time and closing the door she headed toward the show grounds.
The show grounds were humming with activity. People were pulling carts stacked high with dog crates and grooming supplies in one hand and leashes with excited dogs in the o
ther. The dog show scene was its own little world distant from the day to day responsibilities of everyday life. It was no wonder Payton loved it so. What could be better than spending the day with your dogs with not a care in the world, at least for that moment in time?
Victory followed the flow of people towards the main building. Stepping through the door the activity magnified; she was enveloped by barking dogs in crates, vendors, the loudspeaker, and the flow of exhibitors and their dogs warming up around the rings. Victory stood in the doorway surveying the building’s layout.
For the first time since Jeffery’s murder, Victory felt a soothing feeling flood her body. Being around all the dogs gave her stability, made her felt safe. She wandered through the building, stopping every now and then to look at all the different breeds of dogs and some interesting items at the different vendor booths. She could feel the excitement in the air radiating off the dogs. This was a great socializing environment for them and for the most part she could sense that they loved the sport.
Victory was so tuned into the animals that she was totally oblivious to the people around her. Leaning against a far wall, away from the frantic pace of the exhibitors, Tristan remained motionless, only his eyes tracking Victory’s movements. The second she walked into the building he had sensed her. Even amidst the potpourri of grooming supplies, perfumes, hair products, perspiration, and various other human and canine odors, he was able to distinguish her scent as she was approaching the building. As she entered the main door once again he was hit with the subtle aura of lavender and chamomile. He didn’t need her description or picture, Tristan could pick her out of the crowd solely by her essence.
Remaining deadly still so as to blend into his surroundings he scanned the entire building, looking for anyone that appeared out of place. Not seeing anyone that looked a threat, he refocused his attention on Victory. As she walked toward him Tristan studied her. She walked with lightness to her stride. She was dressed in a sweater and jeans but radiated sophistication. Her eyes were a deep jade and for a fleeting second he caught a flash of anguish. Her shiny golden brown hair had a natural wave and fell slightly past her shoulders. Her skin was flawless with a touch of pink on her cheeks, and her smile could light up a stormy night. As Victory approached him, he was mesmerized by her natural beauty, losing all focus on his assignment.
Chasing Victory (The Winters Sisters) Page 2
