“Need some sleep.” She yawned. “Otherwise, I’m fine.”
“And Blake Harrison?”
“No concussion or broken bones. Wouldn’t be surprised to learn he has whiplash.”
“Beats the alternative.”
No doubt.
“Who saw you?” Uncle Frank’s tone hadn’t softened.
“No one.”
“They didn’t notice your car?”
“Give me some credit.” Uncle Frank’s skills included knowing how to push every button she had. He wouldn’t talk to his other agents this way. No. He reserved this level of tough love for her and her alone. “I left it in an overgrown abandoned driveway. That rain was no joke. You could barely see the road, much less a car hidden in the brush twenty feet off the pavement. No one saw me leave, either.”
“Can you identify the car?”
“Truck. Full-size. Dark. Plates covered in dirt. Matches the description of half the trucks in the county. Should have some paint transfer, but my guess is they’ll wipe it down and ditch it. And I doubt they bought it legally in the first place.”
“We’ll check for stolen trucks in the area,” Max said. “Maybe we’ll get a hit.”
She appreciated the effort Max was making to diffuse the tension.
“Can you explain to me what you were doing there in the first place? Or why on earth someone tried to kill Blake Harrison?”
Heidi snapped. “I don’t have a clue why someone tried to kill him, Uncle Frank. Maybe he’s got more enemies than we knew about. I’ll be sure to ask him.” Did he expect her to solve the case before she even started the job? “As for what I was doing there, I believe it’s called running surveillance. It’s what I do when I go undercover. I’m pretty sure it’s what you taught me to do.”
Uncle Frank didn’t respond.
“I was sitting at the edge of the parking lot and I saw a car leave at an odd time. The shift didn’t end for another hour. I thought I’d have time to follow the driver to see if they did anything suspicious and be back by the end of the shift. My plan had been to see if anyone hung around late on a Friday.”
“Good idea, Z.” Bless Max.
“The rain was so heavy, I didn’t realize it was Blake Harrison until I’d already pulled in behind him. He turned onto the road and I almost let him go, but this truck came up fast and…”
“And what?”
“And I don’t know why I followed them. I just did.”
“She’s got the best instincts of any agent I’ve ever worked with,” Max said. “They’ve saved my life more than once.”
“I guess it’s good for Blake Harrison that you followed your gut,” Uncle Frank finally conceded.
Heidi knew that was as close as she was going to get to an apology.
“You’re going to have to read him in. Soon. He needs to know who he can and cannot talk to about this.” At least Uncle Frank’s voice had returned to normal decibels.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Great,” Max said with enough brightness to rival a high school cheerleader. “Z, you need to get some rest. We’ll let you know if we learn anything on the truck.”
“Heidi, remember what you promised me.” Uncle Frank’s words erased all her frustration with him. His anger wasn’t directed at her. His anger reflected his fear for her safety.
“I’ll be careful.”
She ended the call, finished her breakfast and took a long shower before falling across the bed. She’d found the cheap mattress hard for the past month, but today it didn’t matter.
*
The ringing phone jolted her back to consciousness. The clock on the bedside table read five-thirty. She’d slept seven hours?
“Hello.” She stretched and cleared her throat.
“Did I wake you?” Max laughed.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“What do you want?” Heidi sat up and scanned the room. Satisfied she was alone, she leaned back onto the pillows.
“First, Sara would like you to know that if you ever do something that stupid again, she will no longer be your best friend.”
“Sara’s survived worse. I’m not worried.”
“Well, she is.”
“How does she even know about this?” Sara had been her best friend since the first night in their freshman college dorm. When she’d woken up screaming, she’d expected Sara to bolt. She wouldn’t have blamed her.
Instead, Sara had stayed. She’d kept Heidi’s secrets. She’d taught Heidi how to laugh again. And she’d made no secret that having a roommate with a traumatic past had led to her decision to make PTSD her specialty. She was now Dr. Sara Elliot, a practicing clinical psychologist who consulted frequently with the FBI, CIA and other law enforcement and intelligence agencies. Her security clearance was even higher than Uncle Frank’s.
Heidi had never understood why Sara and Max weren’t on better terms. It would make her life a lot easier if her two best friends could get along but she seemed to be the only thing they could agree on.
“She came in to see Frank about fifteen minutes after he hung up with you. He’s the one who ratted you out. Not me.”
“Well, good. That will save me some time the next time I talk to her.”
“Seriously, Z. We’re all concerned about you. The Kovacs don’t play.” Max wasn’t laughing anymore.
“I know that better than anyone.”
Max didn’t respond.
Heidi let him stew for a minute. He was worried. Sara was worried. Uncle Frank was worried. She appreciated the concern, but there was no way she’d pass up the chance to take down the Kovacs. She’d never been this close before.
“Did you have a reason for waking me up other than to fuss at me?”
“I called because I thought you might like to know a forest ranger found a burned-out Ford F-150 in the Pisgah National Forest, next county over. Matches a vehicle reported stolen on Wednesday.”
“Okay.”
“Z?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not sure this is going to be as straightforward as we’d hoped.”
“It never is.”
“You need to find out what Blake Harrison has done to tick off the Kovac family.”
“I don’t think he has any idea.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The look on his face last night. He wasn’t expecting to be run down on a rainy highway and he never imagined they’d done it on purpose. I spent the entire evening watching the family at the hospital. The dad, Jeffrey, and the sister, Caroline, were worried, but they weren’t scared.”
“They should be.”
“They will be.”
“Have you thought about how you’re going to handle letting him know what’s going on?”
“I’m hoping to catch him alone. TacOps is monitoring the place.”
“No small job.”
“Tell me about it.”
The Harrisons owned a huge swath of property. The land had been in the family for over a hundred years. The family business, Harrison Plastics International, known by everyone in the area as HPI, sat on one side of the road in the valley between two small mountains. One mountain was undeveloped and used as a recreation area for the employees of HPI. The Harrisons’ homes dotted the small mountain on the other side.
Blake’s home sat on the backside of the mountain, while his parents’ home sat in the middle overlooking the valley and the plant. Caroline’s home perched near the top of the mountain above their parents’. A gate blocked the winding driveway leading to their houses, but it wouldn’t stop anyone determined to get inside.
“Richards is leading the TacOps team,” Heidi continued.
“Good man.”
“He’s supposed to let me know if there’s a good opportunity to pay Blake Harrison a visit. If nothing comes up soon, I may just have to knock on his door.”
TWO
It was 7:28 p.m. Blake swallowed three more ibuprofen.
They’d offered him a prescription for stronger pain medication before releasing him from the hospital. He’d refused. He’d seen firsthand how far prescription drugs could take someone and he didn’t want that stuff in his house again.
He tried to bend over to pull Maggie’s doll from under the couch, but his back had other ideas. The rap on the door caught him off guard and he jerked upright. Pain raced through his sore muscles as he reached for the baseball bat he’d unearthed when he’d returned home this morning.
Someone had tried to kill him last night. Not that anyone knew, but when his ex-wife’s parents had offered to take Maggie for the evening, he’d jumped at it. At age five, Maggie’s response to the idea of him being injured was to climb all over him to make sure he was in one piece. His aching back could use a night off from being her jungle gym. And anyway, she had to be safer with her grandparents than with him.
Wait. What if they’d tapped his phone? They could have been listening and that would mean they knew he was alone. If he looked through the peephole, would they shoot him?
Get a grip, man. He’d watched too many movies.
The knock came again.
“Mr. Harrison?”
He knew that voice.
He risked a peek and got an eyeful of curly bronze hair. She stepped back from the door as he tried to match this woman with the version he had in his head. Hair saturated with rain, plastered to her cheeks. Eyes flashing. A bit on the bossy side, not that he would complain.
“Mr. Harrison?”
The voice. Yes. He would know her voice anywhere. Although last night she’d called him Blake. He preferred Blake. He opened the door before he could change his mind.
“Hi.”
Yes, same eyes, flashing with amusement now as she studied him.
He followed her gaze to the bat clenched in his hand. He considered putting it down, but really, what did he know about her?
Besides the fact that she’d saved his life.
“May I come in?”
He hesitated and looked behind her. A small Acura SUV sat in his driveway. “How did you get in here?”
“Your code’s not complicated.”
His mind raced with the implications. She knew where he lived. She’d had no difficulty entering their gated driveway. She hadn’t tried to hide either of those facts.
“Mr. Harrison?”
He met her gaze.
“I’d rather not stand on your porch all evening. If you don’t want me to come in, I’d be happy to meet you somewhere more public.”
“No.” No way could he let her get away without giving him some kind of explanation for what was going on. Although he doubted he’d be able to stop her if she wanted to leave.
He stuck out his hand. “My name is Blake Harrison.”
She grinned as she shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harrison. I’m Heidi Zimmerman.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Please come in. And please, call me Blake.” He opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Have a seat.”
He didn’t miss the way her eyes darted around the room as she crossed the threshold, or the way she chose a chair with a view of the door and the rest of the room.
“Thank you,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Her smirk told him she wasn’t buying it. “I’m moving slow, but there’s no permanent damage. Thanks to you.”
They stared at each other for a moment. He got the impression that she was analyzing everything he said, every move he made, but he couldn’t be sure what she’d concluded about him. “Can I offer you a Coke? Mountain Dew? Tea? Water?”
“Water would be great.”
He tried not to let on how stiff he was as he walked to the kitchen.
Her voice followed him. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thanks. It was my grandparents’. I inherited it after they passed away.”
Why on earth had he said that? He grabbed a water for her and a Mountain Dew for himself. Returning to the living room, he handed her the bottle and eased into the chair across from her. He had so many questions, but no idea where to start.
She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and removed a small leather case. She flipped it open and slid it across the coffee table. “Maybe this will help.”
He read the words on the badge. FBI? Was this for real?
“Need a closer look? You can call headquarters, if you’d like to verify it’s legitimate.”
FBI? A lead weight settled on his chest as the faint hope that the events of last night were a fluke disintegrated. “I think I’d like to hear what you have to say first.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “I need you to know, before last night I had no idea you were in danger.”
The way she looked at him with her head cocked to the side, brows knit, mouth tight, he couldn’t question the sincerity or concern behind her words.
Then again, for all he knew the FBI gave their agents acting classes.
He’d fallen for a pretty face once before. And Heidi Zimmerman qualified as more than a pretty face. Her hair spiraled past her shoulders in shades of blond and brown and one little curl kept breaking free from where she tucked it behind her ear. Long lashes framed big green eyes set over a cute nose.
Cute nose? Nobody had a cute nose. He needed to pull it together. What had she said? She hadn’t known someone wanted him dead? What did someone say to that? Great?
She sat straighter in her chair. “I’m sure this goes without saying, but if you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, I’ll deny it and you’ll be prosecuted for obstruction of justice.”
“Sounds fun.”
Her lips twitched. Super FBI agent lady had a sense of humor. Interesting.
No trace of humor lingered when she spoke again. “Fifty years ago, Viktor Kovac immigrated to America from Hungary. It didn’t take him long to settle into New York City and within a few years, more members of the family joined him. Within ten years of his arrival, the Kovacs had made a name for themselves in criminal circles. The police suspected them of everything from money laundering to drug smuggling.”
She took a sip of her water. “Like most organized crime families, they are focused on doing whatever it takes to protect their own and make as much money as they can. In recent years the younger Kovacs have pushed into darker territory. Instead of money laundering and protection schemes, they’ve been linked to human trafficking, arms smuggling and trying to corner the market on certain prescription drugs.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“No. You wouldn’t. Other than the occasional low-ranking lieutenant or wannabe, they’ve never been prosecuted.”
“Never?”
She shook her head, disgust etching her features. “They’ve been linked to multiple homicides yet despite extraordinary efforts on the part of detectives, FBI agents and even informants, there’s never been enough proof to take them to trial, much less secure a conviction.”
Her voice cracked and for a moment, a cavern of pain opened in her eyes. As quickly as it appeared, she looked away and when their eyes met again, steely determination was in its place.
“The younger Kovacs are opportunists. They function without morals, ethics or loyalty to anything or anyone other than the family.”
“You don’t have to convince me. They’re bad news. I’ll be sure to stay away from them.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be as easy as you may think.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know any Kovacs.”
When she looked at him her eyes filled, not with the intensity he’d seen a moment ago, but with compassion. She had the look his mother had had when she’d told him about Grandma’s cancer. A look like that only came with bad news.
“Are you saying I do know some Kovacs?”
She nodded. “One of your employees.”
“I know all my employees. Not a Kovac in the bunch.”
“Two months ago, you hired a man by th
e name of Mark Hammond, I believe?”
“Yes.”
“Mark Hammond isn’t his real name.”
Blake put his head in his hands. This couldn’t be happening. “I run background checks on all my employees.”
“If you’ve got the money and the know-how, it’s not hard to create an identity that can withstand all but the most thorough of investigations.”
“So—”
“Mark Hammond’s real name is Markos Kovac. He’s the youngest grandson of the original Kovac and he has a lot to prove. He’s the baby of the family by quite a few years and most of his older brothers have already established their roles in the organization.”
Blake sat up. “How do you know this?”
“The Kovac family is my job.”
She didn’t elaborate and the set of her mouth made him think she might not say more, but she swallowed hard and continued. “I know more about the Kovacs than anyone else in the Bureau. When Markos and his wife, Katarina, bolted for North Carolina, I followed. I’ve been here four weeks, watching, following, listening—trying to figure out what Markos is up to.”
“I haven’t seen you.”
“I’m an undercover agent. That’s kind of the idea.”
Something about this whole conversation didn’t make sense. “What does any of this have to do with me? Mark may not like me, but I don’t think he’d run me off the road. Besides, I hate to tell you this, but he was at work when I left.”
She started to answer, but he cut her off. “Has it occurred to you that maybe this guy wants to go straight? Maybe he wants to get out of the family business and live an honest life.”
She bit the inside of her lip. “No one leaves the Kovacs. No one has even tried in the past fifteen years.” The words were more breath than whisper. She looked up at him and the pain on her face made him lean toward her. He wanted to comfort her, somehow, but he didn’t even know her.
The moment passed. “What do you mean, about Markos not liking you?”
Blake rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m sure it’s nothing. We’ve just had a few minor issues.”
Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Exit StrategyPaybackCovert Justice Page 41
