Beachcomber Investigations

by Stephanie Queen

  “And what about the hacker?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know anything about him. News to me. Never heard of him.”

  Dane realized this could be true. They hadn’t seen ballistic reports. They were only assuming it was his because of the odds—because it was the same type of ammunition for an Army-issue rifle like Wally’s that it was likely the same shooter. After all, what were the chances?

  Acer looked at him. The same thoughts likely churned through his head. Shana spoke.

  “Who gave you the new orders?”

  “I don’t have any idea—it was a text from a different phone, talked about the job and letting me know they had deposited another fifty grand into my account. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

  Dane looked at Cap and they both looked at Shana. She nodded.

  “I’ll call David and ask him to run down the bank account information to find the source of the funds.” Wally rattled off his account number and she left the room.

  Cap said, “I’ll see if I can get hold of the original ballistics report—don’t know why we haven’t got it yet—”

  “Because the feds—or a particular federal agent—held it up and funneled the information away from you,” Dane said. He felt his cool slipping again. This was a banner day. He’d lose the Mr. Cool status he’d earned over years before the day was over if he didn’t check himself. He could use a damn shot of ocean air—even with his hair still damp with seawater.

  Dane eyed Wally and took a chance. “You’ve heard of Glen Peck.”

  Wally shrugged and shook his head, but darted his eyes to the side. He knew Special Agent Peck.

  “Fiona Whitaker mentioned him.” Dane watched White squirm, not obviously, but enough for him to notice. A tense of his shoulders, a slight bow and turn of his head.

  “Told you I never heard of him. Who is he?”

  “He’s the guy you’re working for.”

  “You saying he put up the fifty large?” Wally’s face was hard and alert now.

  “The question is, what are you saying, Wally? I’m not the one being interrogated here. I’m not the one facing jail time for murder and attempted murder for hire. There’s a special place reserved for people like you. Especially since Mr. Acer here—the one you attempted to murder—is rather well connected—”

  “I never tried to murder him. I told you—”

  “You’re forgetting our little boat chase. But I assure you, I will not let anyone forget that you took a shot and aimed to hit at least one of us.”

  “That was self-defense.” He looked belligerent, but there was no juice in his words. Dane would bet he realized the futility of that argument and might be realizing how much trouble he was really in. Wally wasn’t used to being on the defensive side of a gunfight—or any fight.

  Shana came back into the room with a soft click of the door behind her. Dane knew this without turning around. He felt everything in him light up and almost cursed himself out loud. Mr. Cool might be gone forever.

  “David checked Mr. White’s account and found where the deposit for fifty thousand came from.”

  She sat back down and didn’t look happy. He leaned toward her as if gravity made him do it and said, “It came from the joint account of Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker.”

  “If you knew the answer why did you bother to make me do the footwork?” She almost pouted with the less than enlightening news. He wanted to kiss her lips when they looked like that. He dragged his damn eyes away and stood. He didn’t bother asking if they could track the money from Wally’s account. He was fairly certain it would show a recent cash deposit.

  “I’m taking a break. See what you two can do with this guy.” He left Shana with Acer and Wally.

  Chapter 11

  After Dane left the interrogation room, he took a short walk down the hall and rapped on Cap’s office door. He pushed it open, but before he stepped inside, a loud commotion from the front lobby stopped him.

  “What the hell is that?” Cap said and rose from his desk.

  “I don’t—” Dane stopped cold when he recognized one of the shouting voices rise above the rest. FBI Special Agent Glen Peck had arrived. He smiled his evil smile and said, “Looks like the fly has come straight to the spider’s web.”

  Cap raised his brows as he shot to the door.

  “You stay here while I deal with Peck.” It wasn’t exactly a command.

  “No, you’ve already had your chance.” Dane stepped back out into the hall and walked shoulder to shoulder with Cap to meet Special Agent Peck. It was a short walk. Peck was already headed their way and he had two men in suits with him followed by a State Police officer.

  They stopped at the mouth of the lobby, before the interrogation room. No way was Dane letting him in there. And not because their suspect Wally was in there. Dane was not letting him get to Shana until he had another talk with her, a more detailed talk.

  “I heard from the Coast Guard that there was a shooting. That you picked someone up and have him here.”

  “That’s right,” Cap said. Dane said nothing and didn’t acknowledge Peck’s nod in his direction. They stood in silence for a few beats. Even the sight of the obviously broken nose swollen to twice its normal size and the two shiners didn’t crack Dane’s blank stare. And that was saying something.

  The Statie from the front desk went back to his post. The two special agents that Peck had brought with him looked implacable. For the moment. But there was nothing that Dane enjoyed more than wiping that officious looking stare from a fed’s face. Today it would be a special pleasure.

  “I’m here to interrogate—”

  “Already done,” Dane said.

  “Keep out of this, Blaise. This is between us professionals.”

  “So you’re going the divide and conquer route, the old us-against-them where you try and pal up with my pal. Good luck with that.” Dane turned and went back into the nearby interrogation room.

  He knew Cap could hold Peck off by insisting the FBI agent make a call to his boss, the ASAC. Maybe Cap would call the governor. Maybe they’d have a stalemate for a couple minutes. But in the end, he knew the governor would have to work with the FBI Special Agent in Charge—the SAC Owen Evans. They didn’t have enough on Peck. Not yet. They needed Mrs. Whitaker to talk and he knew the exact person who could get her to do it.

  Dane closed the door of the interrogation room behind him and Shana stood. The breath knocked from his lungs at the sight of her. He breathed a few shallow puffs and got himself in check. This had to stop. She still wore her date-night outfit and the sun was rising in the window behind her, giving her hair a golden glow.

  “Let me guess. Peck.” She stretched and he thought he would faint with the draining of blood from his head. He gritted his teeth.

  “Mr. White, we’re going to need to take you to Boston now. Anything else you’d like to tell us before we turn you over to the FBI?”

  “What? I thought—”

  “Wrong. Do you know Mr. Peck? Last chance—”

  “Yeah, I know him. Of him—” He got no further when the door burst open. Dane wanted to accidently knock the FBI man back into Sunday, but he remained calm and went to Shana’s side. He stood between her and Peck, mostly hiding her. The astonishing thing was that she let him.

  “So what do we have here?” Peck said. He paraded in with his two men and they surrounded Wally, lifting him from his chair until his handcuffs stopped him.

  Acer stood and joined him and Shana, guarding her on the other side like a sentinel.

  “Captain Lynch,” Peck shouted. “Bring the keys to unlock the cuffs. Now.”

  Cap appeared in the doorway, dangling the keys, and paused a beat. “Where are you taking our suspect, Peck? The governor said he was calling us back. It’s not been decided yet—”

  “No need for a decision. This is a federal matter. By the books.” Peck glared at Cap and then darted a glance at Shana and smiled.

  “Hel
lo, Ms. George. I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry our date got cut short by Captain Lynch.” He paused and glanced at Dane, widening his grin. Then he said to Shana, “I’ll take a rain check. I owe you one.”

  Dane felt Shana stiffen next to him. A minor tightening of the arm that was pinned against her side between them. He fisted a hand and aimed a deadly stare and his shark grin at Peck.

  “Over my dead body,” he said.

  Cap tossed the keys at him then and said, “Take Mr. White. We’ll be following.” He turned to Dane. “We’ll take the State Police helicopter to Boston and meet Director David Young and the governor. They have a special interest in this case.”

  Peck unlocked the cuffs and his men took Wally between them and marched from the room. Peck followed. “He’s a very interesting case. We’ll see if we see you in Boston. Tell the governor I said hello.”

  After Peck closed the door behind him, Dane said, “Let’s get the hell out of here. If we use the back door and take the Jeep, we’ll get to the airport ahead of him.”

  “Follow me,” Cap said.

  “I don’t suppose I have time to change?” Shana said as Dane led her down the hall after Cap and Acer.

  Dane said. “David’s been watching the Whitakers. I’m going to call him and let him know it’s time to pick them up. I’ll have him arrange for a change of clothes for you while he’s at it. He’ll have to bring the Whitakers over for questioning with Wally.”

  “Why would he let the FBI have them?”

  “The FBI is right behind him and waiting. They’ll move in and take over—same as they did with Wally.”

  As they passed his office, Cap’s desk phone rang.

  “What do you think?” Dane asked.

  “Could be about the file I’ve been waiting for on the Harry “the Hacker” Small murder.”

  Dane nodded and they filed into Cap’s office for a quick detour. Cap grabbed the phone and within fifteen seconds, Dane realized it wasn’t good news.

  Cap slammed the phone down and said, “They lost the goddamn file.”

  “Don’t they have a digital file they can send?” Acer the computer nerd asked.

  “That’s the file that’s lost. Disappeared.”

  Dane asked Acer, “How hard would that be to do?”

  “You’d need skills—or you’d leave an inadvertent trace. Plus there’s the complicating factor of getting into the law enforcement system. No easy task.”

  “What about the evidence box?” Dane asked Cap. Cap sported a furrowed brow and a downturned mouth. For a man not easily discouraged, this was big.

  “The bullet is missing. And the only ones to access the evidence since the case was put together were the feds.”

  Shana took a big breath and let it out in a long exasperated sigh. “So we have nothing. No evidence connecting the Harold Small murder with the shot at Acer,” she said.

  “And more importantly, no evidence connecting Glen Peck to the Harold Small shooting.” Dane thought for a second and said. “I think Wally White was telling the truth. He didn’t shoot Harold Small. And if he didn’t someone else did. The feds—namely Glen Peck, had the opportunity to remove the bullet, the best evidence about who that someone was.” Dane looked at Cap.

  “This may not be conclusive for a court of law, but it’s a set of circumstances that could help persuade Peter and then maybe the SAC to look at Peck. Let’s run with it.” Dane motioned for them all to follow him out the door and he set a hurried pace, keeping up with the wheels of his mind going at full tilt to put all the small pieces together. He needed to come up with a picture that would look convincing enough to someone other than himself. He pushed through the door and jogged across the small parking lot with his team on his heels.

  After a brief tussle with Cap, Dane claimed the wheel. The four of them jumped into the Jeep and Dane cranked it up. It would be the fastest trip to the airport he’d ever made.

  Once they arrived at the airport, the action started.

  “Shit,” Dane said. Two television trucks waited. The only two on the island. The trucks were surrounded by an army of media, men and women, some with cameras, some with mics, some with tablets, and a couple old-school guys with pencil and paper. He guessed at least half of them were from off island and looked around the parking lot to see more cars than usual for this time of year.

  “They must have found out from the Coast Guard,” Cap said.

  “Shana—you hold them off while I call Peter.”

  “Me? What about Cap?” She scowled.

  “You know damn well why—because you’re stupefyingly stunning. We need you to distract them. Is that good enough for you? You fishing for compliments now?”

  The scowl deepened as she hit him on the arm. Then she sighed, rolled her eyes, and opened the door muttering something about the damn dress from hell and burning it later.

  “Cap—go with her.” Dane didn’t have to tell him not to let Peck touch her or let him near her.

  “Already on that page.” Cap gave him an eyebrow and hesitated a fraction of a second, like he was going to say something.

  Dane watched Peck and company pull up in their rented car behind his Jeep. The inevitable buzz of macho fight-juice, a special flavor of adrenaline, began its course. He knew how to control it.

  He said, “It’s better if you… run interference.” Dane didn’t have to explain that he was too hot to keep his cool. He took a deep breath. “I’ll be with you as soon as I make the call.”

  “Now that we have the sniper under wraps, I’m out in the open,” Acer said and went with Cap.

  Dane called David first. He wiped some blood off his jaw and looked in the rearview mirror. “Damn,” he said out loud. There was a gash near his hairline at his cheek and it was dripping blood. Still. Since his altercation in the ocean. He put his phone on the other side of his face.

  “We have the sniper, Wally White.”

  “So I heard. From the Coast Guard. Captain Vendi called me. Good work.”

  Dane grunted then said, “Favor. Check back channels with the FBI SAC about Peck’s assignment—see if he’s supposed to be looking into Acer’s shooting. Also find out if he’s been digging into Harry the Hacker’s shooting, since he’s connected to the main suspect, Whitaker.”

  “I tried calling you earlier—or rather I called Captain Lynch and missed you. The surveillance team at the Whitaker house saw Sebastian going inside and they believe he’s there with his wife. Time to bring them in?”

  “It’s definitely time. Wally confirmed it. I’ll give you more details when we get in. Cap, Acer, Shana and I are about to get on a copter.”

  “And Wallace White?”

  “He’s with Peck.” Dane spoke in a clipped voice, trying to hide his problem with this, trying to sound mildly annoyed. There was a moment of silence while David took everything in—especially the part about Peck having taken control.

  “Does Peter know?”

  “He’s my next call. I don’t know what he can do, but if he can get us a seat in the interrogation room with the Whitakers—”

  “You think the FBI will take control of all prisoners?”

  “Seems to be that type of operation. Their surveillance guys are probably right behind yours waiting to pounce. That’s Peck’s MO. He watched and waited until we had Wally, then he moved in.”

  “I have news on the threatened complaint by Special Agent Peck,” David said in a droll voice. This should be good. Dane braced himself.

  “Give it to me.”

  “The news is there is no complaint. We didn’t go forward with a complaint either. We are looking at an incomplete picture here.”

  “I love your shocking talent for understatement. You’re right. We haven’t pinned down the source of the mysterious cars trying to run down or grab Shana, and the surveillance car I saw in my neighborhood.”

  “I called the prison where Whitaker was held,” David said. “I obtained the records for his visitors and in
formation about which fellow prison inmates he associated with. Seems he was in the same cellblock as a notorious mob leader who may or may not still retain some control of a network of underlings and vast wealth through his sons. The prison came up with some interesting correspondence between Whitaker and his cellblock mate’s son, it seems. They’re sending the copy of the note for authentication, but they have no reason to believe it was faked. They’re checking his phone records for me. No visitors except his wife for years until very recently, just before he was released. According to the records, his notorious cellblock mate’s nephew visited with him two weeks before his release.”

  “I know it sounds plausible on the surface,” Dane said, “that a notorious prisoner might try to get his claws into Whitaker’s stash, but the minute you dig down, it doesn’t hold water. In fact it makes no sense at all.”

  “I did wonder why such a notorious criminal would communicate by a note, knowing full well that it would be reviewed and recorded,” David said. “Your theory?”

  Dane said, “Why would Whitaker bring in prison buddies on his scheme if he was using his wife to contact the sniper? And why would he bring in more people if he had the sniper kill Harry the Hacker to cut him out of his share?”

  “He could have been forced. Or he might have killed Harry for vengeance.”

  “Then why would these notorious people not squeeze Fiona to get access to the money instead of waiting around while the FBI watched and bodies dropped? And the biggest question of all is, if they knew the FBI was involved or at least watching, why would they waste their time and take the risk for a paltry twenty million at all?”

  “I agree. They wouldn’t. The thing of it is, though, we have no proof of an alternative theory aside from Whitaker himself plotting the entire matter. Which seems the least plausible of all. It seems like if he had access to the money he’d just grab it and run.”

  “And if he doesn’t have access—why not? Who does?” Dane paused and then added, “That’s a rhetorical question since we both know the answer is Peck.” Dane explained the circumstances around the missing bullet in the Harry Small murder.